In 1844 Audubon brought to a close his octavo edition of the Birds by adding seventeen species, eleven of which were new and represented his discoveries on the Upper Missouri of the previous year. The 500th plate, and last of the series which marked the end of Audubon's life-long labors in ornithology, was dedicated to "Baird's Bunting," Emberiza bairdii. "If a trace of sentiment be permissible in bibliography," said Elliott Coues,[198] "I should say that the completion of that splendid series of plates with the name bairdii was significant; the glorious Audubonian sun had set indeed, but in the dedicating of the species to his young friend Spencer F. Baird the scepter was handed to one who was to wield it with a force that no other ornithologist of America has ever exercised."
CHAPTER XXXV
FINAL WORK DAYS
Painting the Quadrupeds—Assistance of Bachman and Audubon's sons—Copper plates of the Birds go through the fire in New York—Audubon a spectator at the ruins—Bachman's ultimatum—Success of the illustrations of the Quadrupeds—Bachman's letterpress—Recommendation of Baird—John W. Audubon in London—Bachman's assistants—His life and labors—Decline of Audubon's powers—Dr. Brewer's visit—Audubon's last letters—His death at "Minnie's Land."
After 1844 Audubon's remaining energies were devoted exclusively to his work on the Quadrupeds, in which it is necessary to discriminate between the large folio of illustrations, which began to appear, in parts, as early as 1842 and which was completed in 1846; the text, of which he lived to see but one volume finished; and lastly, the first and only composite edition of both text and plates, which was published by Victor Audubon in 1854.[199] This series of works, as already noticed, was produced in collaboration with the Reverend John Bachman, of Charleston, South Carolina; Bachman assumed entire responsibility for the text, but owing to his comparative isolation from large libraries, and to the demands of professional duties, he depended on the Audubons to supply him with specimens and books.
Honest John Bachman, whose motto was, "Nature, Truth, and no Humbug," was suffering sadly, he said, from lack of tools, when he wrote to Victor Audubon in November, 1844:[200]
The books are to be found in New York and Philadelphia, but are expensive. I would not have you buy them; but could you not copy for me such articles as we need?
I enclose my plan. I wish always, a month before the time, that you would give me notice of the species you intend to put into the hands of the engraver, and send me, at the same time, the specimen. I cannot describe without it; I will guess at nothing.
I find the labor greater than I expected, and fear that I may break down and, therefore, cry in time, "Help me Cassius or I sink!" Writing descriptions is slow and fatiguing work. I cannot, in the careful manner that I am doing them write more than three in a week. My son-in-law, Haskell, has copied forty-two closely written pages for me. I cannot shorten the articles, many of them I ought rather to lengthen. With patience and the help of all, I hope, however, to get on—the work may be lighter as we proceed.
The following is my daily practice: I am up at 4 A. M., and work till breakfast, and recently, when parochial duties would permit, have kept on until 3 P. M.