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.

We have seen that John James Audubon had attended the school of

adversity many years before he was known to the public in either

America or Europe. The difficulties inseparable from such colossal

undertakings as that in which he engaged were well nigh insuperable;

but to these were added others which perhaps might have been avoided

but which could hardly have been foreseen. From the moment he began to

write for publication, he was bitterly and persistently assailed by a

number of detractors, who seemed bent upon ruining his reputation and

thus undermining the work to which he was devoting his life and upon

which he depended as a means of support.

Were no worthy purpose to be served, it would be folly to resurrect the

animosities of a past generation, but since a few "fed fat the ancient

grudge they bore him," and since this hostility, handed down through

the years, is occasionally echoed at the present day, the impartial

historian is left no choice; he must weigh the merits of the case to

the best of his ability. The reader, I think, will find that the law of

compensation has worked fairly well in respect to all these matters,

for if Audubon possessed faults, he was not lacking in merits; if he

was assailed by a few bitter enemies, he was supported by a host of

judicious friends.

As soon as Audubon became known in England, he was importuned to

contribute to the scientific magazines, and in response to this demand

wrote five articles, which were published in Edinburgh and London

in 1827. Some of these papers, which dealt with the habits of the

Turkey Vulture, the Alligator, the Carrion Crow or Black Vulture,

the Wild Pigeon, and the Rattlesnake,[54] were roundly scored in the

Philadelphia press, and Audubon was called a romancer of the first

order. Thomas Sully, the artist, who was then living in that city and

who had taken a deep interest in the naturalist since their meeting in

1824, wrote in November, 1827, and told him what had occurred. Since

Audubon's reply was practically the only answer which he ever made to

attacks of this sort, and since his friend was given permission to make

such use of it as he saw fit, we shall reproduce this letter nearly

entire.[55] In writing to his wife on the same day Audubon said: "Now

my Lucy, I am going to answer Sully's letter; it is no difficult task,

so far as truth be connected with my answer, but as regards my feelings

it is perhaps the severest one I have had to encounter for many years."

_Audubon to Thomas Sully_

LIVERPOOL, _Decr 22, 1837_.

MY DEAR MR. SULLY:—

I received from your truly friendly letter of the 7th.

of November the long wished for intelligence that you

and your family were well. I am not much astonished that

in Philadelphia, remarks such as you allude to, should

have been made respecting some papers on the habits

of objects of Natural History, read by me to different

institutions in this country, but I am grieved at it.

The greatest portion of my life has been devotedly spent

in the _active_ investigation of Nature, her beauties

& her objects in granting to different individuals,

classes, or species, such privileges as best suit

their form, situation, or habits. This arduous task I

have followed with unremitting diligence, and with a

degree of industry that has caused to my family and to

myself more troubles than any person in Philadelphia

can be aware of. For more than 20 years I have been

in _the regular habit_ of writing down every day all

the incidents of which I have been an _eye-witness_,

on the spot, & without confiding to my memory, as

many travellers have done and still do. You have read

some portion of this journal, and have also been an

eye-witness of many of the occurrences, and to this I

now owe the gratification of possessing your esteem,

but, My dear Mr. Sully, you are not the only evidence.

Mr. Joseph Mason, who is now, I believe, an artist

in your city, accompanied me on a hunting excursion,

beginning at Cincinati, and ending in the State of

Louisiana, which lasted 18 months. He drew with me; he

was my _daily companion_, and we both rolled ourselves

together on bufaloe robes at night. James Cummings,

Esq., past captain, the author of a treatise on the

navigation of the rivers Ohio and Mississippi, was one

of the party, and he saw me write in my Journal, and

read it frequently. Every member of my family has seen

the whole of those Diaries and could readily assert the

truth of the whole of their contents, to many of which

they were party, present and acting.

The papers alluded to in your estimable letter, are

merely copies from those journals; they were transcribed

in Edinburgh, and the style corrected by patrons, who

saw the originals, nearly worn out by time and the

casual dampness, which journals like mine must often

be exposed to. I read these papers to the different

societies, of which I have the honor to be a member, and

read them with a sensation of pleasure that nothing but

a full persuasion of their truth could bestow.

Those persons in Philadelphia that have felt a desire

to contradict my assertions cannot, without lowering

themselves very much indeed affect to conceive that the

members of the Wernerian Society would have listened to

my "say so," without investigating the subject, even

if they had not been well versed in the habits of the

objects I treated of. Neither can they believe that

all my acquaintance and particular friends would permit

me to proceed in relating _Tales of Wonder_, which if

untrue, would load me with disgrace, ruin my family,

nay, prove me devoid of all honor! Could I suffer myself

to be so blinded at the very moment when I am engaged

in the publication of a work of unparalled magnitude, of

which the _greatest naturalists and best judges_ both in

America and in Europe have given the fullest praise and

firmest support, & from which my very means of pecuniary

comfort are to be drawn? It would certainly be highly

unfair to conceive & assert that at the time whilst

I was portraying individuals, animal and vegetable,

I should have rambled so wide and so far from facts

in a portion of science so intimately connected with

& necessary to the support of those delineations, as

well as to the general standing of my reputation! Mere

interest would suggest a very contrary line of conduct,

and I hope I am not so devoid of common sense as to

lose sight of all that can render life desirable in this

world or the world hereafter.

No, my dear Mr. Sully, I have written with care what

I have seen, and have felt a great desire to spread

the knowledge I have obtained in the great field of

Science for the benefit of the world at large, and I

rest content with this motto: "Le temps découvrira

la vérité." To whom then, my dear Mr. Sully, can I

ascribe the birth of the animadversions expressed in

the papers of Philadelphia! Is their author one [who]

comes avowedly forward with a life spent in the woods,

loaded with facts differing in every respect from mine,

one who like me can bring forth vouchers, and who can

by respectable witnesses support what he says? Or, is he

one, who, writing at random and without any knowledge of

his subject, merely wishes to push himself into notice

by a blunt denial of my veracity, and would _edify_

& _please_ some of his friends, at the price of my

reputation. I think, my dear Mr. Sully, the latter much

more applicable, and must belong to the author of the

report current in your city.

I have not read any of the Philadelphia papers since I

came to England, and do not know the tone of the attacks

upon me, but judging from your friendly letter, I feel

assured that the pen that traced them must have been

dipped in venom more noxious than that which flows from

the jaws of the rattlesnake!

To you, my dear Friend, I solemly affirm that however

unnatural my observations may _appear_, they are all

_facts_, without a word of exaggeration. My fate in

this instance differs not from that of many others,

but believe me, will differ widely from that of the

illustrious Bruce; those attacks will not make me die of

sorrow!

With this, my dear Friend, I will close the subject,

giving you meanwhile full liberty to use this letter in

any manner that may best suit your feelings, and I will

now pass on to other things.

My success in the mother country continues to augment

apace. I have many most valuable friends and patrons,

and discovered soon after my landing that Science has

no particular country. The 5th. number of my work is

now published, & completes my labor for 1827. During

my progress I have often received letters from highly

distinguished characters, expressive of the highest

approbation, & I hope by regular industry to be able

to go on with the performance, with credit to myself &

benefit to my family.

I shall leave this town for London in a few days, when I

will convey your wishes to Robert Sully, & [when] there

I hope to see the picture which you have sent to the

Marquis of Wellesley....

The attack referred to in the letter just quoted was called forth by

Audubon's unfortunate paper on the Rattlesnake,[56] which was read

before the Wernerian Society of Edinburgh in the winter of 1827 and

published by Robert Jameson in the _New Philosophical Journal_ in April

of that year. The controversy then started was long and bitter, while

the merits of neither side were ever fully established; in the history

which follows we shall see that the naturalist was, on the whole, more

sinned against than sinning.

In July, 1828, Dr. Thomas P. Jones[57] appropriated Audubon's

Rattlesnake article, and published it without acknowledgment in the

_Franklin Journal and American Mechanics' Magazine_ at Philadelphia.

It should be noticed that at the close of 1827 Audubon's famous plate

of the Mocking Birds defending their nest against the sinister designs

of this formidable reptile had also been published in London. In this

remarkable picture the rattlesnake was represented coiled about the

nest, at the fatal moment when ready to strike its bold defenders,

and in a tree. The anomaly was apparent, for the climbing habits of

rattlesnakes were not then generally understood. This circumstance,

together with some of Audubon's notes, repeated in certain cases from

stories current in rural communities, furnished his detractors with

a powerful lever, which they seized with avidity; snakes coiled in

trees seemed suddenly to have produced a brood of another order which

lurked in the grass, and it was many years before Audubon heard the

last of his snake stories. The attack in the American press was laid

to the door of George Ord, and it was not long before it was renewed

with great vigor by his friend and correspondent in England, Charles

Waterton, who proclaimed Audubon as a new and greater Münchhausen.[58]

[Illustration:

JOHN BACHMAN GEORGE ORD

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHELL CHARLES WATERTON

BACHMAN FROM C. L. BACHMAN, "JOHN BACHMAN, D.D., LL.D."; ORD FROM

"CASSINIA" FOR 1908; MITCHELL AFTER AN ENGRAVING BY GAMBER AND

DICK OF A PORTRAIT BY HENRY INMAN; WATERTON FROM MOORE'S EDITION OF

WATERTON'S "ESSAYS."]

Dr. Jones immediately repudiated the article which he had

unceremoniously appropriated, and under the title of "The Romance of

the Rattlesnake" inserted the following notice in the August number of

his magazine:[59]

Just as the Editor was leaving Philadelphia for

Washington, he was pressed for "more copy" by his

printer, and hastily marked some articles for insertion,

among which were "Notes on the Rattlesnake," by John

James Audubon, F.R.S.E., M.W.S., &c. Time did not

admit of reading the article, but it was seen that the

writer professed to offer the "fruits of many years'

observation, in countries where snakes abound." This

with his titles, and the bold and splendid assurances

which we had seen respecting the publication of

his works, served as a password to his tissues of

falsehoods, which would have been expunged from the

proof, but for absence from the press.

We had determined to publish a notice like the

foregoing, when we received a note from a scientific

friend, whose remarks are, at once, so pointed and

correct, and so fully express our own ideas upon the

subject, that we gladly adopt and insert them.

It is a tissue of the grossest falsehoods ever attempted

to be palmed upon the credulity of mankind, and it is

a pity that any thing like countenance should be given

to it, by reproducing it in a respectable Journal.

The romances of Audubon rival those of Münchausen,

Mandeville, or even Mendez de Pinto, in the total want

of truth, however short they may fall of them in the

amusement they afford.

This was rather a stiff charge to be made flatly against the reputation

of any one without the most careful investigation, even upon the

authority of "a scientific friend." Let us see, then, what basis, if

any, really existed for such sweeping charges. In the paper which

caused the trouble Audubon had described in great detail how he

had seen a large rattlesnake pursue, capture, kill by constriction,

and devour a gray squirrel. Before quoting his description of this

singular encounter, we shall recall a passage which Audubon wrote in

his journal at the time when it occurred,[60] when he was at "Oakley,"

the plantation of James Pirrie at St. Francisville, Bayou Sara, in the

summer of 1821: "August 25. Finished drawing a very fine specimen of a

rattlesnake, which measured five feet and seven inches, weighed six and

a quarter pounds, and had ten rattles. Anxious to give it a position

most interesting to a naturalist, I put it in that which the reptile

commonly takes when on the point of striking madly with its fangs."

After describing a rough dissection which he made of the rattlesnake's

dental arsenal and poison apparatus, he added: "The heat of the weather

was such that I could devote only sixteen hours to the drawing." The

drawing thus referred to was undoubtedly used in the composition of his

celebrated plate.

To revert now to a mooted passage in Audubon's published paper:

Rattlesnakes hunt and secure for their prey, with ease,

grey squirrels that abound in our woods; therefore they

must be possessed of swiftness to obtain them. Having

enjoyed the pleasure of beholding such a chase in full

view in the year 1821, I shall detail its circumstances.

Whilst lying on the ground to watch the habits of a bird

that was new to me, previous to shooting it, I heard

a smart rustling not far from me, and turning my head

that way, saw, at the same moment, a grey squirrel full

grown, issuing from a thicket, and bouncing off in a

straight direction, in leaps of several feet at a time,

and, not more than twenty feet behind, a rattlesnake of

ordinary size, pursuing, drawn apparently out to its

full length, and sliding over the ground so rapidly

that, as they both moved away from me, I was at no

loss to observe the snake gain upon the squirrel. The

squirrel made for a tree, and ascended to its topmost

branches as nimbly as squirrels are known to do. The

snake performed the same task considerably more slowly,

yet so fast that the squirrel never raised its tail nor

barked, but eyed the enemy attentively as he mounted and

approached. When within a few yards the squirrel leaped

to another branch, and the snake followed by stretching

full two-thirds of its body, whilst the remainder held

it securely from falling. Passing thus from branch to

branch, with a rapidity that astonished me, the squirrel

went in and out of several holes, but remained in none,

knowing well that, wherever its head could enter, the

body of its antagonist would follow; and, at last, much

exhausted and terrified, took a desperate leap, and came

to the earth with legs and tail spread to the utmost to

ease the fall. That instant the snake dropt also, and

was within a few yards of the squirrel before it began

making off. The chase on land again took place, and

ere the squirrel could reach another tree, the snake

had seized it by the back near the occiput, and soon

rolled itself about it in such a way that, although

I heard the cries of the victim, I scarcely saw any

portion of its body. So full of its ultimate object

was the snake, that it paid no attention to me, and I

approached it to see in what manner it would dispose of

its prey. A few minutes elapsed, and I saw the reptile

loosening gradually and opening its folded coils, until

the squirrel was left entirely disengaged, having been

killed by suffocation. The snake then raised a few

inches of its body from the ground, and passed its head

over the dead animal in various ways to assure itself

that life had departed; it then took the end of the

squirrel's tail, swallowed it gradually, bringing first

one and then the other of the hind legs parallel with

it, and sucked with difficulty, and for some time, at

them and the rump of the animal, until its jaws became

so expanded, that, after this, it swallowed the whole

remaining parts with apparent ease.

Audubon then described the appearance that the snake presently assumed,

which suggested "a rouleau of money, brought from both ends of a purse

towards its centre," and its ineffectual attempts to move off; "when

having cut a twig," he continued, "I went up to it, and tapped it on

the head, which it raised, as well as its tail, and began for the first

time to rattle."

Now every careful reader of this remarkable story, provided he is at

all conversant with the habits of snakes, will perceive that it could

not possibly have been invented, for it is strictly and minutely in

accord with facts, except in one important particular; the snake

whose behavior Audubon watched and so accurately described was

not the rattlesnake, but the blue racer or black snake (_Bascanion

constrictor_); substitute "blue racer," for "rattlesnake," and this

record is photographically correct.[61] The black snake does all the

things which are here so minutely described—pursuing its prey with

astounding agility, constricting about it as a prelude to swallowing

it, ascending trees readily, coiling when brought to bay as if about

to strike, and even vibrating the tip of its tail on the ground or

leaves, as if in emulation of the genuine rattler, a kind of behavior

which was looked upon by Darwin as a case of protective mimicry. No one

could have known the rattlesnake better than Audubon from his constant

encounters with it in the field; he made drawings of it, dissected its

poison apparatus, and had kept it for months in confinement in order to

study its habits; but by some curious twist of his notes or his memory,

or led astray by the record made of the rattling habit, the species

became confused in his published account. His error was gross and he

paid dearly for it, but it certainly does not prove him to be the king

of nature fakirs.

Audubon's critics were probably right in affirming that the rattlesnake

never ascends trees for the purpose of destroying birds, but some

overshot the mark by denying that the reptile was able to climb at all.

Nor could it have been said with greater justice that the brilliant

but sluggish coral snake (_Elaps fulvius_), which Audubon had also

placed in a tree,[62] really never aspires to this distinction.

When the snake controversy was waxing warm in America, a number of

Audubon's friends, including Colonel John J. Abert[63] and Richard C.

Taylor,[64] investigated the question and proved that the rattlesnake

was a ready climber at certain times of the year and under certain

conditions, a fact which is now better known. Mr. Taylor's party in

the course of explorations in the Alleghanies killed forty-one large

rattlesnakes during the month of August on a single ridge bordering

the Lycoming Valley, and in rendering his report, this geologist said:

"I have repeatedly endeavored to verify Mr. Audubon's account of the

rattlesnake ascending trees, which has been confirmed."

We have already referred to Audubon's meeting with Thomas Cooper

at Columbia, South Carolina, in October, 1833. This versatile man,

sometime English lawyer, revolutionist in France, friend of Priestley,

judge in the Court of Common Pleas of Pennsylvania, professor of

chemistry in Dickinson College as well as in the University of

Pennsylvania, and at this time president of South Carolina College at

Columbia, was able to confirm Audubon's account of the climbing habit

of the rattlesnake, and probably wrote this statement at his request:

[Illustration: DR. THOMAS COOPER. After a contemporary silhouette.]

_Thomas Cooper to Audubon_

COLUMBIA S. CAROLINA

_Octr 21. 1833_

MR AUDUBON

DEAR SIR

About three weeks ago, my son and two of my black

servants, observed a very large rattle snake climbing up

the fence that separates my garden from the road, at my

country house. The snake put himself in the attitude of

striking; whereupon one of the men ran for a gun, and

shot the snake on the last rail but one of the fence.

The snake was 4.3 long; as thick as my wrist, and had

seven rattles.

I am Dear Sir

Your obedient servant

THOMAS COOPER

Waterton maintained that Audubon's drawing of the rattlesnake, to which

we have referred, was a monstrosity, "a fabulous Hydra, with its eyes

starting out of their sockets," and a point repeatedly ridiculed was

his representation of the fangs as slightly recurved, or bent up at

their tips. Who had ever heard of such an anomaly? Certainly not the

doughty lord of "Walton Hall," who declared that the fangs of poisonous

snakes were always curved like a scythe, with their points bent

downwards. Waterton prided himself on his knowledge of these reptiles,

and certainly was not lacking in self-confidence. According to his own

account, he went eleven months in the forests of Brazil without shoe or

stocking to his foot, and on a certain occasion in London secured with

his hands and removed from its cage a live rattlesnake; but, like so

many sophisticated writers on natural history, he took to analogy like

a duck to water.

Waterton's statement sounds plausible enough, but obviously could be

proved only by extensive observations and comparisons. When Audubon

was proceeding up Galveston Bay to Houston, Texas, in the spring

of 1837, with his son, John, and Edward Harris, they stopped at the

plantation of Colonel James Morgan, near Red Fish Bar. "There, among

other rarities," said he, "we procured a fine specimen of the climbing

rattlesnake with _recurved_ fangs, which with several others of the

same kind, is now in my possession."[65] In writing to Thomas M.

Brewer, from Charleston, on June 12 of this year, he alluded to this

subject as follows: "I must not forget to say to you that I had the

good fortune to procure specimens of my 'Climbing Rattlesnake with

DOUBLE _recurved fangs_' which, I am told, will prove a new genus! and

therefore the Messrs. Ord and Waterton—_good souls!_—will be perfectly

delighted at the sight of this strange reptile."[66] Unfortunately

a large part of Audubon's collections made upon this expedition were

lost. I have seen no other reference to this extraordinary peculiarity,

and there the matter seems to have rested until the present time.

Audubon's judgment or memory might play him false, but his pencil, in

such a matter, could be relied upon to tell the truth. It is therefore

a pleasure to be able to confirm his accuracy in reference to the

serpent's tooth, for the true representation of which he was roundly

abused during his lifetime. The reader will perceive the point by

examining the accompanying photograph, which represents the skull

of a large diamond-backed specimen from Florida.[67] In the prairie

rattlesnake, and probably in some others, the fangs are sickle-shaped,

as Waterton maintained, but upwards of eleven species of rattlesnakes

have been found on the continent of North America, and, true to

Audubon's disputed drawing and account, in this Florida specimen the

fangs are _slightly_, but _very distinctly, bent upwards at their

tips_! Let nature writers, inclined to the easy path of analogy,

remember the rattlesnake's fang, for it teaches a salutary lesson.

[Illustration: VINDICATION OF AUDUBON'S REPRESENTATION OF THE FANGS

OF THE SOUTHERN RATTLESNAKE: ABOVE, DETAIL OF THE "MOCKING BIRDS,"

PLATE XXI (UNCOLORED) OF "THE BIRDS OF AMERICA"; BELOW, THE SKULL

OF A RECENT FLORIDA SPECIMEN, SHOWING THE SAME RECURVATURE OF

FANG.]

As I have not hesitated to speak of Audubon's real or supposed

mistakes, I will give another and more striking instance of his tardy

vindication. In his plate of the American Swan (No. ccccxi), which was

published in 1838, there is represented a yellow water lily, under the

name of _Nymphaea lutea_. Since this lily was then quite unknown to

botanists, it was ignored and treated as a fable, or as an extravagant

vagary of the naturalist's imagination, until the summer of 1876, when

it was rediscovered in Florida by Mrs. Mary Treat. Audubon's long lost

lily was then identified and acknowledged by Professor Asa Gray, the

botanist, who, with poetic justice, proposed to rename it after the

discredited enthusiast, in view of the fact that it had been originally

discovered and faithfully depicted by him a generation before.

While the snake controversy was acute in America, another of a purely

academic character, which assumed even wider proportions, was started

on the smelling powers of the vulture. We have already seen a reference

to this in the naturalist's letter to his son, Victor, written at

Charleston, where he was conducting with Bachman a new series of

experiments to settle the question.[68] The idea, commonly accepted,

that the scavengers of the Southern States were possessed of a keenness

of scent comparable with that of a beagle hound, had been vigorously

combated by Audubon, who showed by numerous experiments[69] that they

were guided to their prey by the sense of sight only; thus it was found

that they would come readily to the effigy of a calf or sheep painted

on canvas and set up in plain view, or to a skin stuffed with straw,

but failed to detect their quarry when the dead bodies of these animals

were placed on the ground and screened from their eyes, if only by the

thinnest cover, though the carrion was calling loudly to the nose but

a fraction of an inch away. An attack by Waterton,[70] who hurried to

the fray whenever a statement in his jealously guarded _Wanderings_

was called in question, led to a lively tilt, in which the advocates

of the nose and the eyes were sometimes humorously referred to as

the "Nosarians" and the "Anti-Nosarians," some of the most eminent

anatomists of the day eventually taking part.

Bachman felt keenly the aspersions which were cast upon his friend,

and in the winter of 1833 he undertook with Audubon the series of

experiments to which we have referred. The tests which were then made

supported Audubon's statements in every particular, and the faculty of

the Medical College of South Carolina were invited as a body to witness

them; this they did willingly, and the following memorial signed by all

the witnesses present was published by Bachman in 1834.[71]

We, the subscribers, having witnessed several of the

experiments made on the habits of the vultures of South

Carolina (_Cathartes aura_ and _C. atratus_), commonly

called the turkey buzzard and the carrion crow, feel

assured that these species respectively are gregarious,

the individuals of each species associating and feeding

together; that they devour fresh as well as putrid food

of any kind, and that they are guided to their food

altogether through their sense of sight, and not of

smell.

In a letter written to Ord, on March 4, 1834, Waterton said:

You will see that the Charleston parson [Bachman],

Doctors, Surgeons and Professors are up in arms against

me and are determined to cut off the Vulture's nose.

But do not be alarmed for me, I promise you that I

will answer them to your heart's content and tomorrow

I shall send up a paper to Loudon for his May number

which will make your Philosophers appear very small and

put Audubon's claim to literature and ornithology in so

clear a light that no one will be in doubt hereafter....

Audubon's gulled friends and supporters in London are in

the highest spirits and feel sure that I cannot answer

the Charleston letter. By the first of May next their

crowing will cease.

When anatomists came to consider the question and found that well

developed olfactory lobes and nerves were present in these birds,

they favored the theory of smell,[72] and Edinger has more recently

expressed the opinion that this consideration renders the possession

of an olfactory sense in such birds highly probable. His contention is

weakened, however, by the fact that granivorous and insectivorous birds

also possess true olfactory nerves, and yet are proved by experiment

to have little or no effective sense of smell. It is a problem for

students of behavior to solve, and so far as the American vultures are

concerned, Audubon's and Bachman's experiments, I believe, have never

been repeated or extended with sufficient care to settle the question.

The little that has been done, however, suggests that while the vulture

in its daily and never ending search for food is mainly guided by its

keen eyes, the nose, possibly, may be a coöperating factor when the

wind and other conditions are favorable.

While critics were driving the pen, Audubon was hard at work in the

field, but his friends did not long remain silent. Favorable notices

of his work, actual or prospective, had appeared in the scientific and

literary press of England, by David Brewster, Robert Jameson, William

Swainson, and "Christopher North" of _Blackwood's Magazine_. The first

American notice appeared in the _American Journal of Science_ for

1829, and this was followed by G. W. Featherstonhaugh, the English

geologist, in his recently established but short-lived _Monthly

American Journal of Geology and Natural Science_, to which we have

already referred.[73] A little later the London _Athenæum_ gave the

first of eleven extended articles on Audubon's work; in reviewing his

second volume of letterpress, which appeared in 1834, the writer said:

"There is amply sufficient remaining in Audubon's pages for fully a

dozen more notices, were we disposed to follow the exhausting system.

We have admired Audubon's gorgeous drawings, but our interest in them

has been increased a thousand fold, in knowing that they are the spoils

of a life's campaign."[74] Again a series of able articles was started

by a just critic, W. B. O. Peabody, in the _North American Review_

for April, 1832.[75] Featherstonhaugh deserves credit for having given

Audubon a fair hearing at a critical time, when baiting the American

Woodsman was a popular pastime in certain circles at Philadelphia; in

reviewing the _Ornithological Biography_ in 1832, this plain spokesman

gave what he called "a true history of a conspiracy, got up to utterly

break down and ruin the reputation of one of the most remarkable men

America ever produced."[76]

Audubon's silence under fire of hostile criticism tempted someone

in the capacity of a reporter to call on him in London to obtain,

if possible, a personal statement, but his lips were then sealed and

he would only say: "Had I wished to invent marvels, I need not have

stirred from my garret in New York or London." However, in writing

to Featherstonhaugh from Bulowville, East Florida, December 31, 1831,

Audubon made this comment:[77]

If I did not believe the day to be gone by when it was

necessary to defend my snake stories, I could send you

many curious accounts of the habits of those reptiles;

and I should do it, if it were not that I might be

thought to enjoy—too much that triumph which the

feeble hostility of three or four selfish individuals

has forced upon me. I receive so many acts of real

friendship and disinterested kindness, that, I thank

God, there is no room left in my heart to cherish unkind

feelings towards any one. Indeed, I am not now so much

surprised at the incredulity of persons who do not

leave cities, for I occasionally hear of things which

even stagger me, who am so often a denizen of woods

and swamps. What do you think of rattlesnakes taking

to the water, and swimming across inlets and rivers?

I have not seen this, but I believe it; since the most

respectable individuals assure me they have frequently

been eye-witnesses of this feat. I can conceive of

inducements which reptiles may have for traversing

sheets of water to gain dry land, especially in a

country much intersected by streams, and subject to

inundations, which compel them to be often in the water.

In such countries, it is not an uncommon occurrence

to find snakes afloat and at great distances from the

shore. This appears, no doubt, surprising to those

who live where there is almost nothing but dry land;

still they ought to be good natured, and believe what

others have seen. It has now been made notorious, that

numerous respectable individuals, whom duty, or the love

of adventure, have led into the woods of our country,

have often seen snakes—and the rattlesnake too—in trees;

the good people, therefore, who pass their lives in

stores and counting houses, ought not to contradict

these facts, because they do not meet with rattlesnakes,

hissing and snapping at them from the paper mulberries,

as they go home to their dinners....

Audubon's most persistent heckler was Charles Waterton,[78] who during

two of his most prolific years, 1833 and 1834, published no less

than fourteen lucubrations against the "foreigner," and "stranger"

as the American was called; all were characterized by quizzing

interrogatories, shallow criticism and personal vituperation, for

the most part unworthy of serious consideration. Long noted for his

eccentricities, Waterton had little or no standing among English

zoölogists, against many of whom, from time to time, he issued

broadsides or breezy polemics, whenever their statements cast a shadow

on his _Wanderings_. Some of these accusing articles were answered

by Victor Audubon and other friends of the naturalist, but they never

drew his own fire; probably they benefited him in the end, for when it

appeared that the charges brought against him were in large measure the

work of envious calumniators, a strong current set in his favor on both

sides of the Atlantic.

When Audubon's name was first proposed for membership in the Academy of

Natural Sciences at Philadelphia, it was rejected, according to report,

through the influence of George Ord and a few of his partisans, while

Waterton, who was Mr. Ord's close friend and correspondent, affirmed

that Audubon was rejected by the Society on the strength of Alexander

Wilson's personal diary,[79] a statement which appears to be utterly

incredible.[80]

In 1833, two years after the first volume of Audubon's "Biography of

Birds" had made its appearance, Waterton raised another controversy,

in this instance with ammunition supplied by his friend, George Ord

of Philadelphia. He boldly proclaimed[81] that Audubon was not the

author of the work which bore his name, a charge similar to that which

had been brought to the door of the French ornithologist, Le Vaillant,

whose history resembled Audubon's in many ways. "I request the English

reader," said Waterton, "to weigh well in his own mind what I have

stated, and I flatter myself that he will agree with me, when I affirm

that the correct and elegant style of composition which appears through

the _whole of the Biography of Birds_ cannot possibly be that of him

whose name it bears." Waterton maintained that, while Audubon's earlier

papers were the work of an illiterate person, his _Biography_ betrayed

the hand of a finished scholar from beginning to end. In a reply to

Victor Audubon, written July 6, 1833,[82] Waterton declared, upon the

authority of George Ord, whom he quoted, that William Swainson had been

importuned to write Audubon's work for him, but declined when Audubon

insisted upon his own name being given to the world as author. This

direct accusation called forth an immediate explanation from Swainson,

who said:[83]

In reply to that gentleman (G. Ord, Esq.), regarding

the assistance it was expected I should have given my

friend, Mr. Audubon, in the _scientific_ details of

his work, my reply was, that the negotiation had been

broken off from an unwillingness that my name should

be printed on the title-page. I was not asked to write

the work, nor did Mr. Audubon "insist upon his own name

being given to the world as the author" of such parts as

he wished me to undertake.... I have read Mr. Audubon's

original manuscripts, and I have read Mr. Waterton's

original manuscripts. I think the English of one is as

good as the English of the other—but here the comparison

ends."

The controversy thus started did not reflect much credit on Audubon's

detractors, but reverberations of the charge were heard at a much later

day.

Robert Bakewell, the geologist, who was a relative of Mrs. Audubon,

then living at Hampstead, entered this controversy, and in June, 1833,

replied[84] to one of Waterton's fulminations, which he attributed to

envy and jealousy, saying that posterity would regard Audubon as "the

most distinguished ornithologist of the present age."

Charles Waterton began his travels at eighteen, but early settled

down to a life of leisurely independence on his ancestral estate

in Yorkshire, where he studied birds to little purpose and wrote

extensively on natural-history subjects; he is best known for his

_Wanderings_,[85] which has passed through numerous editions and is

still read. From youth Waterton enjoyed exceptional advantages, and

according to one of his biographers, "lived to extreme old age without

having wasted an hour or a shilling." He was the twenty-seventh

"lord of Walton Hall," the manor house of the family, which stood on

an island in a lake; the estate of 260 acres was mainly converted

into a preserve for wild birds. His young wife died in 1829, after

having given birth to a son, and he lived on his paternal acres in

semi-retirement ever after. It was said that Waterton would never don

evening clothes or a black coat, but insisted on wearing a blue frock

with gold buttons until an anxious policeman in the neighboring village

of Wakefield persuaded him to make a change; he told the Reverend J.

G. Wood in 1863 that he had been bled 160 times, mostly by his own

hand. When, in his sixty-ninth year, he had the misfortune to fall from

a pear tree and break an elbow joint, the first remedy tried was the

extraction of thirty ounces of blood; shortly after this a careless

servant withdrew a chair as he was seating himself at table, and thirty

more ounces were immediately required. The wage of one of his laborers

is said to have sufficed for his personal needs, and his sleeping

apartment had neither bed, chair, nor carpet; he lay on bare boards,

wrapped in a blanket, with an oaken block for pillow; and he is said to

have never tasted fermented liquor and to have eaten but sparingly of

meat. His daily habit was to retire at eight and rise at three o'clock

in the morning, and he was always dressed by four; an ardent Roman

Catholic, he would spend an hour at devotion in his private chapel; he

then read Latin and Spanish authors, wrote his polemics against Audubon

or any others with whom he came in conflict, and received the reports

of his bailiff, all before breakfast, which was at eight o'clock; the

remainder of the day was mostly devoted to his birds and other animals,

to preserve which he surrounded his entire estate with a high rampart

of stone, said to have cost, all told, $50,000.

Though a devout Romanist, as someone has remarked, Waterton never

hesitated to adopt the same mode of reasoning which Hume had employed

in his argument against miracles. Thus he rejected with scorn Edward

Jenner's account of how the young parasitic Cuckoo, when but a day

old and hardly able to stand, turned out of their nest its rightful

occupants. This account, which was generally accepted then, and has

been repeatedly verified and recorded by the camera since, "carries,"

said Waterton, "its own condemnation, no matter by whom related, or by

whom received." Trusting to analogy again, he maintained that Audubon's

description of the Ruby-throated Hummingbird gluing bits of lichen to

the surface of its nest with saliva was false, because "the saliva

of all birds immediately mixes with water," and the first shower of

rain would immediately undo the work of the bird. No account was taken

of the Chimney Swift, which not only glues together the twigs of its

nest but secures the whole to a support through an abundant salivary

secretion, although this habit had long been known. In the instance of

this hummingbird, however, both Audubon and Waterton were partly right

and partly wrong, as a careful examination of the nests of five species

of hummingbirds, including the Ruby-throat, has clearly shown.[86]

It proved that saliva was only casually used on the surface of the

nest, the lichens in the case referred to being adherent by means of

spiders' silk and fine vegetable fibers of various sorts; the saliva

of the Ruby-throat, when dry, moreover, was found to be practically

insoluble in cold water, even after an immersion of several days; but

more interesting than this is the fact that the nest itself is _glued_

to its supporting twig by a large _salivary wafer_, which represents

this hummingbird's first step in the work of nest construction.

Shortly after his arrival at Edinburgh, and before he had published

anything, Audubon wrote in his journal on November 5, 1826: "I returned

home early and found a note from Mr. John Gregg, who came himself

later, bringing me a scrubby letter from Charles Waterton," so it

would appear that the lord of "Walton Hall" had been warned to keep an

eye on the dangerous American, and Waterton's American correspondent

was Mr. Ord, of Philadelphia. Later on Waterton wrote to Swainson

an extraordinary letter of some four thousand words,[87] afterwards

published in his _Essays on Natural History_, which for petty vanity

and personal animosity has seldom been surpassed, but with this effort

his ammunition seems to have been exhausted.

Charles Waterton, who lived to his eighty-third year, and who wrote

nineteen polemics against Audubon and his friends, was probably sincere

in his attacks upon the American Woodsman, whom he seems to have

regarded as a dangerous charlatan. Waterton was a curious compound

of fearless independence, kindness, credulity, pedantry, vanity, and

intolerance. He should be given credit, however, for having done much

to spread abroad a love of natural history and for his attitude towards

an artificial system of classification, then much in vogue, which,

though only an amateur, he had the good sense to reject.