Chapter XXXII: Audubon's Greatest Triumph (2)

Much misunderstanding has arisen in regard to the engraving and publication of Audubon's earlier plates owing to the complex relations which existed between Lizars, the two Havells of the same name, and the naturalist himself; this involved the reissue of the first two numbers of the work, and a confusing series of legends upon the plates themselves, occasioned partly by a division of labor between father and son, and by the death of Robert Havell, Senior, in 1832. The errors into which some commentators have fallen, however, are due to their examination of but one set of plates. The account which follows is based upon a collation of complete copies at the British Museum, the Radcliffe Library, Oxford, the Jardin des Plantes, Paris, and the Boston Society of Natural History, and of numerous scattered plates. Lizars engraved the first ten plates only of the large folio, but before the summer of 1827 a considerable number of these early impressions had been distributed. The Havells, as we have seen, started the work anew, and Robert, the younger, retouched the greater part of Lizars' plates, so that their reissue in London constitutes for the bibliophile a second, and in some cases a third, edition. Moreover, the plates which were eventually executed by the younger Havell, to the number of 425, were repeatedly printed from to meet the requirements of new subscribers; on such occasions errors were corrected, minor changes in the artist's or engraver's name introduced, and the nomenclature of the birds and plants more or less completely revised. Frequently the Whatman water-marks, or, indirectly, Audubon's titles, postdate the year of publication as printed on the plate itself. Conflicting legends, particularly on the earlier plates, which have often puzzled collectors, are mainly due to one or another of the conditions named. Nearly every plate underwent alterations of some sort, but the various legends show conclusively whether the print belongs to a first or a subsequent impression. In the British Museum copy, the younger Havell's first independent legend appears on Plate lxxvi (Virginia Partridge), as "Engraved, Printed, & Coloured by R. Havell Junr. 1830." The word "London" was later added, but was eventually discarded. After the senior Havell's death in 1832, the son naturally dropped the suffix from his own name; thereafter his brief designation of name and date became gradually stereotyped. It should be noticed, however, that when Robert Havell needed to reprint from plates which were executed before his father's death, he would frequently remove only the "Junior," and let the original date stand, so that legends like the following are not uncommon: "Engraved, Printed, & Coloured by R. Havell, —— London—1831"; to avoid the lacuna, designation of place and date were, at times, erased also. The naturalist's name underwent a different evolution on the plates, but after 1830, the date of his election to membership in the Royal Society, his designation gradually settled into the phrase: "Drawn from nature by J.J. Audubon, F.L.S. F.R.S." (as in Plate lxxxi, 1830); accordingly, all plates which bear these titles, but an earlier date, are second or later editions. The previous hints, with examples to be given presently, will enable collectors to determine whether a given plate is a first or subsequent impression.

Drawn from nature by J.J. Audubon F.R.S. F.L.S.
Engraved Printed & Coloured by R. Havell. 1836]

Lizars' first edition of plates, Numbers i to x, bore no dates, and, so far as known, the first date of the entire series was "1828," which was added to Plate 31 (the White-headed Eagle), but was erased from later issues. When Robert Havell, Junior, retouched Lizar's engraving of the Turkey Hen (No. II, Plate vi), he added the date "1829," but in a third or later edition the name was changed and the date removed. This same date appears also on the retouched Plate ii, of the Yellow-billed Cuckoo, and on that of the Purple Grackle or Crow Blackbird (Plate vii). A curious error crept into the first impressions of the former plate, which was mislabeled "Black-billed Cuckoo," a bird then recognized as quite distinct.[160] Plates xxxi to lxxv (1828-29) were all dated in the first issue, and bore the names of both Havells; the legends are: "Engraved, Printed & Coloured by R. Havell & Son, London, 1828," and "Engraved by Robt. Havell, Junr. Printed & Coloured by R. Havell Senr. London, 1828," or "1829" (British Museum copy), but when later printed by Robert, the younger, the dates were erased. All subsequent dating of the plates was somewhat irregular until 1834 (Plate ccii), but from that point to the end of the series, the year of issue was consistently added to each plate. Ornithologists are specially interested in the time of publication, since forty-seven new specific names occur on Audubon's large plates, and should date from them and not from the letterpress which followed.

To illustrate what has been said of successive editions of Audubon's plates, we shall give the legends of two or three of the most famous, taken from copies in the British Museum and Boston Society of Natural History libraries or from detached plates obtained in London, in 1903:

Plate i (1st edit., Lizars; Brit. Mus.).—"Great American
Cock Male—Vulgo (Wild Turkey) Meleagris Gallopavo. Drawn
by J. J. Audubon, M. W. S. Engraved by W. H. Lizars
Edinr."

Plate i (2nd or later edit., Havell; Boston Soc. Nat.
Hist.).—"Wild Turkey. Meleagris Gallopavo. Linn. Male
American Cane. Miegia macrosperma. Drawn from nature by
J. J. Audubon F.R.S., F.L.S. Engraved by W. H. Lizars
Edinr. Retouched by R. Havell Junr."

Plate vi (1st edit., Lizars; Brit. Mus.).—"Great
American Hen & Young, Vulgo, Female Wild
Turkey—Meleagris Gallopavo. Drawn from Nature by John J.
Audubon F.R.S.E. M.W.S. Engraved by W. H. Lizars Edinr."

Plate vi (2nd or later edit., Havell; detached
plate).—The same with the exception of "F.L.S.," added
to Audubon's name, and "Retouched by R. Havell. Junr.
London, 1829."

Plate vi (3rd or later edit., Havell; Bost. Soc.
Nat. Hist.).—"Wild Turkey, Meleagris Gallopavo. Linn.
Female and Young." (Artist's name apparently cut off
by binder.) "Engraved by W. H. Lizars. Retouched by R.
Havell. Junr."

Plate 31. (1st edit., Havell. Brit. Mus.).—"White-headed
Eagle, male. Falco Leucocephalus. Fish Fulgo—Yellow mud
Cat. Drawn from Nature & Published by John J. Audubon,
F.R.S.E., F.L.S., M.W.S. Engraved, Printed & Coloured by
R. Havell & Son, London, 1828."

Plate xxxi (2nd or later edit., Havell; Bost. Soc. Nat.
Hist.).—"White-headed Eagle, Falco Leucocephalus. Linn.
Male. Yellow Cat-fish. Drawn from Nature and Published
by John J. Audubon. F.R.S. F.L.S. Engraved, Printed &
Coloured, by R. Havell."

Plates which were wholly the work of Lizars have naturally become extremely rare; they were evidently disregarded by Audubon when he recorded on July 2, 1827, that he had given Mr. Children a proof of his first number, which he called "the first in existence," and declared that the two guineas then received was the first money that had been returned to his hands. Lizars' initial number had actually been finished in the previous winter, and a copy of this is recorded as having been given to the daughter of Sir Walter Scott on the 9th of March, 1827.

When Audubon had finally closed all his business affairs in Edinburgh and London, late in the summer of 1839, he returned to America, with the remaining members of his family, and settled in New York, where he purchased a house at Number 84 White Street, then in the uptown district.

An anonymous writer in the London _Athenæum_[161] in giving a final review of Audubon's labors in 1839, paid this interesting tribute:

It seems but as yesterday that we were walking about
with a transatlantic stranger, picturesque enough in his
appearance and garb, to arrest the eye of every passing
gazer; a tall stalwart man, with hair sufficiently long
to qualify him to serve as a model to Gray's "Bard," and
trousers ample almost as petticoats of "good Harmony
cloth," so absorbed in the enthusiastic prosecution
of his gigantic plan—a life's labour—as to be heedless
of the singularity of those meteoric locks, and those
liberal nether garments. Some dozen of years, however,
have elapsed since that day; the American Woodsman's
hair—long since cut short—has grown white; his
magnificent undertaking is completed, and he is now on
the point of quitting England, to settle himself for the
remainder of his days whether by the side of a bayou, in
some forest clearing, or as an inhabitant of one of the
American cities which have learned to know his value,
report saith not.

We shake hands with the author, tendering him our hearty
congratulations on the completion of a task almost as
arduous as has ever been proposed to a literary man....

The confidential simplicity of Mr. Audubon's own
prefaces would make yet more personal leave-takings
and farewells, on the critic's part, natural and
graceful,—but it must suffice to say, that few have
quitted England, carrying with them a larger portion of
honest regard and sincere good wishes.

Possibly it was the same writer who gave this striking picture of Audubon in the pages of the same journal, thirty years later:[162]

We can remember when his portfolio excited delight
in Edinburgh, London, and Paris, rivalling in smaller
circles a new Waverley novel. The man also was not a
man to be seen and forgotten, or passed on the pavement
without glances of surprise and scrutiny. The tall
and somewhat stooping form, the clothes not made by a
West-end but by a Far West tailor, the steady, rapid,
springing step, the long hair, the aquiline features,
and the glowing angry eyes,—the expression of a handsome
man conscious of ceasing to be young, and an air and
manner which told you that whoever you might be he was
John Audubon, will never be forgotten by anyone who knew
or saw him.

We will add to this the musings of an anonymous American writer[163] in the _North American Review_ for the following year (1840):

It must have been with mingled and varied feelings
that Audubon published his concluding volume. He was
sure then that he had raised an imperishable monument
to commemorate his own renown. All anxieties and fears
which overshadowed his work in its beginning had passed
away. The prophecies of kind but overprudent friends,
who did not understand his self-sustaining energy, had
proved untrue; the malicious hope of his enemies, for
even the gentle lover of nature has enemies,—had been
disappointed; he had secured a commanding place in the
respect and gratitude of men; he had secured a treasure
of rich and glowing recollections, to warm his own heart
in his declining years, and to kindle enthusiasm in his
children's children....

On the other hand he had lost an employment which
for years had kept all the powers of body and mind
in healthy though intense exertion; whatever else he
might do, the great work of his intellectual life was
finished.... His trumpet of victory at the result must
have given an uncertain sound, partly exulting in his
success, and partly lamenting that his great work was
finished.

It has often been asked, how many complete sets of Audubon's folio of _The Birds of America_ were distributed, and how many are in existence today. No definite answer can be given to either question. His final lists, appended to the last volume of his "Biographies" in 1839, and reproduced in Appendix III to the present work, gave the number of standing names as 161 (calling for 166 copies), of which 79 (with 84 copies) pertained to Europe, and 82 were American; inasmuch as 118 subscribers had dropped off, with incompleted sets on their hands, this brought the total number of original patrons at that time to 279, and the number of copies which had been originally ordered to 284. On the other hand, the following advertisement, evidently from the hand of Audubon himself, appeared in _The Athenæum_, under date of "London, November 1, 1837," and was reprinted in America a few weeks later:[164]

The number of perfect copies at present subscribed
for does not exceed 190, of which upwards of 80 are
subscribed for in America; and the expense of getting
them up is so great, that not more than ten or fifteen
copies, above the number subscribed for, will be
prepared.

The Establishment necessary for its publication will
be broken up when the last Number is coloured; and any
application for the Work must be made to the Author, 4,
Wimpole—street, London; or Mr. R. Havell, Engraver, 77
Oxford—street, before the first of May next, as after
that time no subscription can be received.

Assuming that Audubon's final published lists, calling for 166 copies, were correct, and that ten additional sets were prepared, this would bring the total original number known to have been complete to 176, which agrees with an estimate attributed to Victor Audubon, who once expressed the belief that "about 175 copies" were in existence, of which about 80 were in America.[165] It is probable, however, that of the 118 persons who allowed their subscriptions to lapse, a number completed their sets from the residual stock, which must have been great, though the later plates would be the hardest to obtain; in this event the number of perfect sets of Audubon's _Birds_ probably never exceeded 190 or 200.

The proprietor of a well known Philadelphia bookshop[166] has stated that during his experience as an antiquary, he has had personal knowledge of forty or fifty copies of the folio edition of Audubon's _Birds_ in America, and he thought it probable that a single New England print dealer, in the course of twenty years, had broken up thirty or forty volumes for the purpose of selling the plates. This is not surprising, since from the sale of a single volume upwards of $1,500 might be realized in this way, but no reputable dealer would now think of breaking up an unimpaired set.

Mr. Ruthven Deane, who has compiled a careful record of copies of _The Birds of America_ known to exist in the United States, recorded in 1908 that he had ascertained the resting-place of seventy-five sets which, with few exceptions, were complete and in good condition. "A set in the library of the Mechanics-Mercantile Institute, San Francisco, California, which had been there for some thirty years, and another set in the San Francisco Art Association, presented in 1894 by Mr. Edward F. Searles, Methuen, Massachusetts, were both destroyed by the disastrous earthquake and fire which visited that city April 18, 1906."[167]

Audubon's own copy of his _Birds_, the plates of which were naturally selected with the greatest care, was sold by Mrs. Audubon after the death of her last surviving son, in 1862, to John T. Johnson, of New York, for $1,200; the subsequent history of these volumes has not been traced. Havell brought with him to America a copy, every plate of which is said to have been selected by himself, and it is undoubtedly one of the finest sets in existence. It passed from the family's possession to the hands of the publishers and booksellers, Messrs. C. S. Francis & Company, of 554 Broadway, New York, who in 1856 had charge of the sale of all of Audubon's works,[168] and was later purchased by Dr. W. Gurdon Russell, of Hartford, Connecticut, who presented it to Trinity College, July 10, 1900.[169]

After recording the facts of the case, so far as they have been ascertained, the following extract from the minutes of a meeting of the New York Historical Society, held October 3, 1865, will be read with interest:[170]

The Librarian presented the following copy of a
manuscript memorandum preserved in the first volume of
Audubon's Ornithological Biography, formerly belonging
to the late J. Prescott Hall,[171] and now in possession
of David G. Francis, Esq.:

"This work is presented to J. Prescott Hall by his poor
Friend and sincerely attached servant

JOHN J. AUDUBON"

"New York April 4, 1844."

"Mr Audubon told me in the year 184— that he did not
sell more than 40 copies of his great work in England,
Ireland, Scotland, and France, of which Louis Phillippe
took 10.

"The following received their copies but never paid
for them: George IV., Dutchess of Clarence, Marquis of
Londonderry, Princess of Hesse Homburg.

"An Irish lord whose name he would not give, took two
copies and paid for neither. Rothschild paid for his
copy, but with great reluctance.

"He further said that he sold 75 copies in America, 26
in New York and 24 in Boston; that the work cost him
£27,000 and that he lost $25,000 by it.

"He said that Louis Phillippe offered to subscribe for
100 copies if he would publish the work in Paris. This
he found could not be done, as it would have required
40 years to finish it as things were then in Paris. Of
this conversation I made a memorandum at the time which
I read over to Mr. Audubon and he pronounced it correct.

"J. PRESCOTT HALL."

As regards the subscription of Rothschild the following account of his interview with the famous banker has been recorded by Audubon himself.[172] The naturalist, it appears, received a letter to Baron Rothschild from the American banking-house of Prime, Ward & King, and presented it in the summer of 1834. The banker was not in when Audubon and his son, Victor, called upon him, but "soon a corpulent man appeared, hitching up his trousers, and a face red with the exertion of walking, and without noticing any one present, dropped his fat body into a comfortable chair, as if caring for no one else in this wide world but himself." When Audubon presented his credentials, the banker asked: "Is this a letter of business, or is it a mere letter of introduction?'" As Audubon had not read the letter, he was obliged to answer rather awkwardly that he could not tell. "The banker then opened the letter, read it with the manner of one who was looking only at the temporal side of things, and after reading it said, 'This is only a letter of introduction, and I expect from its contents that you are the publisher of some book or other and need my subscription.'" Audubon continues:

Had a man the size of a mountain spoken to me in that
arrogant style in America I should have indignantly
resented it; but where I then was it seemed best to
swallow and digest it as well as I could. So in reply
... I said I should be _honored_ by his subscription to
the "Birds of America." "Sir," he said, "I never sign
my name to any subscription list, but you may send in
your work and I will pay for a copy of it. Gentlemen,
I am busy, I wish you good morning." We were busy men,
too, and so bowing respectfully, we retired, pretty well
satisfied with the small slice of his opulence which our
labor was likely to obtain.

A few days afterwards I sent the first volume of my
work half bound, and all the numbers besides, then
published. On seeing them we were told that he ordered
the bearer to take them to his house, which was done
directly. Number after number was sent and delivered
to the Baron, and after eight or ten months my son made
out his account and sent it by Mr. Havell, my engraver,
to his banking-house. The Baron looked at it with
amazement, and cried out, "What, a hundred pounds for
birds! Why, sir, I will give you five pounds, and not a
farthing more!" Representations were made to him of the
magnificence and expense of the work, and how pleased
his Baroness and wealthy children would be to have
a copy; but the great financier was unrelenting. The
copy of the work was actually sent back to Mr. Havell's
shop, and as I found that instituting legal proceedings
against him would cost more than it would come to, I
kept the work, and afterwards sold it to a man with
less money but a nobler heart. What a distance there is
between two such men as Baron Rothschild of London and
the merchant of Savannah!