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D. D., LL. D., Ph. D. 

The Pastor of St. John's Luthtran Church, Charleston. 

\ ,: ^J^SJ 

■ X 

Walker, Evans & Cogswell Co., 











C. L. B. 



Youth and Training. 

Ancestry— Birth— Childhood— Early taste for Natural 
History— School and College Life— Training for the 
Ministry— Pastor Braun— Licensed to Preach to 
Three Churches in his Native County, Rennselaer, 
N. Y.— Ordination and Change of Field 2b 


Pastor of St. John's. 

Called to Bt. John's Church, Charleston, S. C— Early 
Ministry — Laying of the Corner-Stone of the New 
St. John's— Marriage— John Nicholas Martin- 
Birth of Daughter— Second visit to his Northern 
Home 39 

The New St. John's. 

Dedication of the New St. John's— Sunday-School 
Established— Summoned to the North by the Illness 
of his Father — Family .Joys and Sorrows — The 
Death of his Father Induces another visit to his 
Early Home— Letters in 1827 53 


1827— Extreme Ilhiess from a Fever contracted on the 
"Great Lakes" — Extracts from his Journal — Letter 
to his Vestr^^ — John G. Schwartz takes Charge of 
St. John's in the Absence of the Pastor 65 




Convalesence and return to Charleston— A Homestead 
Built— Death of his Twin Daughters— Nullification 
—His aged Mother— Letters 80 



The Synod and Theological Seminary — Early History 
of the Lutheran Congregations at Ebenezer and 
Savannah — Visited by the Pastor of St. John's — 
Formation of the South Carolina Synod— Theolo- 
gical Seminary at Tennessee — Seminary in South 
Carolina — Rev. John G. Schwartz— Ernest Haze- 
lius, D. D. — The Charleston Church prospers— 
Letter from S. vS. Schmucker, D. D. — Degree of 
Doctor of Divinity Conferred on the Pastor of St. 
John's dS 



Correspondence with Audubon— Natural History— A 
visit from the Naturalist Audubon — His Letters 
to Audubon 109 



Address on Horticulture— Essav on the Migration of 
Birds '.' 124 

Laijors IX Natural History. 

]<s;:;i: to Ls;^.5— Letters to Audubon and his Sons— Suc- 
cessful Labors in Botany and Natural History- 
Anecdote of Oemler the Enthusiastic Botanist— 
The Visit of Audubon and his Family — Mr. 
Edward Harris, of Morristown, N. J.— A"^ Night 
with the Hunters at Liberty Hall 147 



Bachman and Audubon, 

1837 — Union Between the Families of Bachman and 
Audubon — The Home — Letters to Audubon, and 
to his Sen, Jolm W. Audubon -Visit to Balti- 
more — Letter to Mr. Edward Harris — Failing 
Health 160 


^^ISIT TO Europe. 

Arduous Duties — Broken Flealth — Letter to Vestry 
Asking Leave of Absence — Farewell Sermon — Re- 
ception at London by Audubon — Diagnosis of Case 
by Eminent London Physicians— Journey to Scot- 
land in Company with Audubon — Journal of 
European Travel — Switzerland — Lake Constance — 
Germany — Society of Naturalists at Freyburg — 
Berlin — Humboldt — Paris — Return of Unfavorable 
Symptoms — London — Visit to Earl of Derby — 
Elected Foreign Correspondent of Zoological So- 
ciety, London — Letter from John E. Gray — 
Family Letters — Return — Double Union Between 
the Families of Bachman and Audubon 182 


Passing Under the Rod. 

Family Letters — Mrs. Jacob Martin — Death of his 
Daughters — The Secret of Large Sympathy 198 


Lights and Shadows. 

Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Conferred — Elected to 
Various Scientific and Litei-ary Societies in Europe 
and America— St. John's Church Colonizes — Let- 
ters to Audubon on his Return from Rocky Moun- 
tains — Quadrupeds of North America — Visit to 
Audubon — His Daughter Julia — Joy at the Birth 
of his First Grandson— Family Letters 217 





Death of Mrs. Bachniaii— Letters to the Family— Let- 
ters to Audubon 


Father and Daughter. 



Professor and Students. 

Depression of Spirits — Revival of Hope — Narrow Es- 
eape from Loss of Eyesight — Letters to Victor 
Audubon while Publishing Quadrupeds of North 
America — Agassiz — Attends a ]Meeting of General 
Synod, Convened at Xew York^ — Visits Audubon — 
Letter from Hon. Mitchell King— Elected to Chair 
of Natural History in Charleston College— Anec- 
dotes 265 

His Second MxVrriage. 

Health Fails — Sojourn at Madison Springs — Visit from 
Victor Audubon— Letter to Edward Harris— Quad- 
rupeds of North America— His Part in the Work 282 

Letters and .Journeys. 

1852— Letter on Education of Daughters— Visit to Eu- 
faula— A Letter of Invitation to the North— The 
Invitation Accepted -Tour of the Great Lakes— 
Jared P. Kirtland, M. I) 294 




Literary Wo r k . 

Open-air Preparation for Literary Worlv — Dictation to 
Amanuensis— Personal Recollections of Dr. Sum- 
mers, and of Dr. John G. Morris— Literary Club- 
Adventures of a Club-night — L"^nitv of the Human 
Race '. 805 


Scientific Labors. 

An Examination of the Characteristics of Genera and 
Species — An Examination of Prof. Agassiz' "Natu- 
ral Provinces" — Humboldt's Letter Destroyed — 
Letter from Henry B. Schoolcraft, Indian Commis- 
sioner 317 


Defence of Luther. 

Personal Recollections, by Dr. Summers— Defence of 
Luther and the Reformation — Lines on a fly- 
Leaf, bv John L. Girardeau, D. D.— Natural Historv 
for Children— Hobbies— Snuff. !. 329 


A Visit to Florida. 

Scientific and Pastoral Work— In the Home— The 
Mirabilis — His Amanuensis— Anxious Hours — A 
Successful Hunt— Visit to Florida 341 


Work for the Church. 

At Sixty-eight Vigorous and Hopeful— Even Tenor of 
Life Broken by Death of a Beloved Daughter— Ser- 
mon on Forty-third Anniversar;^ of Ministry in 
Charleston — As Preacher and Pastor — Progressive 
Spirit — Southern Book of Worship — A Common 
Service— Lutheranism Sturdy and Uncompromis- 
ing— Newberry College— Drs. Stork and Brown 353 




The Beginning of the Wae. 

Colored Congregation — His Defence -Old Plenty — 
Boston Drayton— Bishop Payne— Jehu Jones— Ser- 
mon on Dutv of the Christian to his Country— 
The Ordinance of Secession— Letter to Edmund 
Ruffin— Takes on Hospital Stores to Virginia— A 
Comforter to his Grandson— Measles— Unexpected 
Visitors— Bread Cast on the Waters— Found In- 
sensible—St. John's Church Closed 872 


During the War. 

Christmas, 1863— The Children's Festival— Death of 
his Wife — Visit to Concord— Letters— Charleston 
Evacuated— He leaves for Columbia— Encounters 
the Federal Army at Cash's Station— Cruel Treat- 
ment—Return to Charleston— St. John's Re-open- 
ed— The Congregation Poor but United — Feeble- 
ness and Failing Eyesight 887 


After the War. 

An Assistant Pastor Engaged — Address on Humboldt 
—Fifty-fifth Anniversary Sermon — Rev. W. W. 
Hicks Elected Co-Pastor— Proposed Enlargement 
of St. John's— Opposition— The Scheme Abandon- 
ed — Resignation of Co-Pastor Accepted — Rev. 
John H. Honour Elected Associate Pastor— Fruit 
After Many Days— A Grandson Studies for the 
Ministry....*. 4()() 


Illness and Convalesence. 

Letter from J. A Brown, D. D., and Dr. Bachman's 
Reply— From Rev. J. B. Haskell— Reply to Letters 
from' INIilestown, Pa. — Correspondence Between 
John Haskell and his Grandfather — Letters to A. 
R. Rude, I\ D.— Mr. John S. Fake— Rev. T. W. 
Dosh— Bereavement — Decline 428 



The Close of Life. 

From John Haskell's Diary — From Dr. Wightman — 
Dr. A. R. Kude — J. F. Ficken, Esq. — Memorial 
Services— Lines by Prof. W. J. Rivers— Baehman 
Endowment Fund— Mural Tablet in St. John's 
Church 434 


Tlie niatericils for tlie Bioi»rapliy of JoHX 
Hachmax. D. D., were collected Avitli great 
labor and ]>;nns by his grandson, the late 
Rev. John Bachman Haskell, the appointed 
biographer, who wrote . ''7 think fhaf the 
Biographf/, well done, wonld he worth mij poor 
lifey Tlie accomplishment of this labor of 
love was frustrated by tlu^ protracted illness 
that preceded his detith. 

In compliance witli liis injunctions, the 
attem])t lias been made to weave tlie materials 
collected according to liis plnn — •• Ijet h'nn 
speak for himself, whenever it is jn^ssihlc." 

A biography written l)y ;i near relatixe 
has its merits and its disadvantao-es. On the 
one hand, tln^ ])en of a stranger could not 

as readily indicate the .sj)rings of action, or 
uive tlie tinei" touches to character: on the 
otlier liand. niu-onsciously, love may some- 
times look with too [)artial an eye. The 
I'eader nuist l)e tlu^ judge : we could only 
adoj)t the |)rincii)le h)id down — '' Jjcf hint 
.^l>eak for Ji'nn^elf.' 

The letters to Audubon take a ])rominent 
])h\ce, from the fact that they Inn e been })re- 
served. while others of ecjual, or of greater 
interest, at h\-ist to the (^hurcli, lia\'e been 

Althongh tlie name of Bachmax is (dosely 
interwo\(Mi with the early life of the Lutheran 
diurcli ill tlie South, yet the details of his 
laboi's liere would weary the gerieral reader, 
and would, necessarily. ha\'e been very impcM'- 

Many of the letter's written, wliik' passing 
under the rod. si^nii too sacred tV)r the critical 
eye of the j)nblic. But without these we couhl 
neither give the read(U' a glimpse into the 
tender, loving h(\-irt of the uian and the father, 
nor couhl he trace the growth of that marvel- 
lous sympathy whi(di (MiabliMl John Bach- 
max to enter into thc^joys and sorrows of his 
fellow-nicn, almost as if the\- W(M'e his own. 

Valued tributes from tlie pul[)it and the 
press, and niemorial oiferinos from many 
friends, in prose and verse, we have been 
compelled to omit on account of the narrow 
limits of tliis commemorative volume. 

C. L. Bachmax. 

Cliarleston. 1888. 


Youth and Training. 

Ancestry — birth — childhood — early taste for natural 
history — school and college life — training for the 
ministry — pastor braun — licensed to preach to three 
congregations in his native county, rexnselaer. x. y. — 
ordination and ('fl\n(4e of field. 

JOHN BACHxMAN has left us in his own luuid- 
writing a few records, and very few, of his 
ancestry. He laid no undue stress on descent ; 
yet would often say to his family, " 1 rejoice that 
I have come from an excellent stock : for good, pure 
blood shows itself in men, as well as in animals, and 
thus far I prize it.'^ 

In 1S58, he wrote a sketch of Ins life for a scien- 
tific journal in Europe. In it he says: 

'' My paternal ancestor, was a native of the Can- 
ton of Berne, Switzerland. After visiting England, 
he came to America as private Secretary to William 
Penn. Einally he settled near Easton, Penn, As a 
reward for faithful services rendered to the infant 
Colony, the Government granted him two Town- 
ships of land called, ' Upper and Lower Sackeny,' 
which are now settled by his numerous descendants. 
He was the seventh generation from the above. My 
ancestors on my mother's side, were from the 
kingdom of Wiirtemberg, Germany." 

10 .Jo] in Bacliman. 

His braiu-h of the family veinoved to Dutchess 
Co., N. Y. 

His fatlier, Jacoh Bacliiiiaii, lived in the little 
town of Rheinheck, near Schagticoke He was a 
successful farmer, who provided well for the com- 
fort of his family. His mother, Eva, possessed 
sterlino- ipialities : both i)arents were godly, active 
members of the Lutheran Church, in the Gilead 
Pastorate, N. Y. 

The family consisted of one daughter, Eva, and 
three sons, Jacob, Henry and John. The youngest 
son, John, is the subject of this memoir. 

Rev. J. N. Barnett, writing of the pastorate of 
Gilead, says : " A century ago their devotion chal- 
lenges our admiration. Who now could be pre- 
vailed upon to wade through deep snow for miles 
to attend Divine service in mid-winter, where no 
heating device was countenanced ?"' " One old 
gentleman," (still living), " remembers to have 
heard his mother tell of carrying her children 
througii cold and snow, a distance of three miles, to 
that unwarmed Church, to sit through services 
lasting almost the entire day." "These things are 
recorded in honor of the earnest and faithful men 
and women, from whom the worshippers of to-day 
are descended; who, in defiance of wintry storms 
and summer heats forsook not tlie assembling of 
themselves together al>out the altar of their God 
and Saviour." This is the good dock that John 
Bachman prized, and this the hardv training of his 


His Ancestry. 11 

Among these sturdy, church-loving people he was 
born, February 4th, 1790, in the town of Rheinbeck, 
Dutchess County, State of New York. In due time, 
with much rejoicing, the baby of the famih^ was 
taken to tlie old Stone Church and received the Sac- 
rament of Baptism. 

We recall many sweet pictures that he has left us 
of his childhood's home. As a boy he loved to sit 
beside his father and ask him about his forefathers. 

The name of his first American ancestor, the sec- 
retary of William Penn, he has not recorded. Yet, 
it was surely an inspiration to the bright lad, to re- 
member that his ancestor was no drone, no ignorant 
rustic, content simply to labor as a bread-winner. 
He was conscious that this legendary fore-father 
possessed a liberal education for his day. It pleased 
him to know that he was a brave and fearless 
worker, amidst the wilds and dangers of an infant 
colony. He rejoiced to feel tluit the Peace-maker, 
William Penn, had made no unwise selection when 
he chose a Bachman for his secretary — as the grant 
of townships by the Government gave conclusive 

He delighted to hear, too, of the sturdy, loyal 
stock who remained in Switzerland — the Bachmans 
of Berne. We fancy that we can see the boy eagerly 
cpiestioning his father about Lieutenant- General 
Bachman, of the Swiss Guard, who lost his life in 
defence of the unfortunate Louis XVI, of France, 
when John was two years of age. The boy's pulse 
must surely have quickened when he remembered 

12 John BachmafL 

that the same blood which tiovved in tlie veins of 
the martyred hero, tiovved in his. Thirty-eight 
years later he stood upon the soil of his forefathers. 
The orandeur and loveliness of the lake and moun- 
tain scenery held him spell-bound. At the western 
extremity of Lake Lucerne stands the city of the 
same name; and here he looked ui)onthe monument 
designed by Thorwaldsen, in memory of those eight 
hundred Swiss wlio l)ravely sought. l)ut failed, to 
defend the King, in the palace of the Tuileries, 
Paris, 17^>2. Few works of art, it is said, so pro- 
found Iv impi'ess the beholder. 

The famous *" Lion ot Lucerne" is twenty-eight 
feet in length. It is chiselled out of the living- 
rock on the ^idc of a precipice. The gigantic, mighty 
king of the forest is dying; his paw rests protect- 
ingly u}K)n tlie P>ourbon shield, while the broken, 
fatal spear, still |)iei'ces his side. Above the sculj)- 
ture is tbe motto, 

"Helvetiorum Fi<lei ac Virtuti," (To tlu' fidelity and 
valor of the Sw iss.) 

At the base is the roll of honor — on one side are 
the names of Commanders, twenty-eight in number, 
" Commanders who fell most bravely fighting." The 
name of Lieutenant-General Baehman is the second 
on the list; and the chronicler of that blood}^ de- 
fence, records that "Lieutenant-General Baehman 
was the soul of the expedition." 

John's father fought in the Kevolutionary War. 
John was nine vears of aae wlien tlie news reached 

Recollections of his CMldhood. 13 

the little town of Rheinbeck, that Washington lay 
ill unto death. How eagerly naust the boy have 
listened to his father, as he described his beloved 
Chief, as he had last seen him: "A grand man. 
over six feet in height, seated gracefully and firmly 
in his saddle, with a gentleness and graciousness of 
manner, that bespoke the Statesman, rather than 
the Warrior ; and an attention to personal appear- 
ance that suited the festive hall, rather than the 
wilds of Virginia." Then his mother spoke of " Lady 
Washington," how she had presided over the " Fed- 
eral Court " \^tli stately courtesy and high toned 

Perhaps, most of all, he liked to liear his father 
tell of Washington's exploits as a hunter; liow keen, 
wary and successful he had been in lield-sports. even 
in boyhood. 

At that time there were but thirteen States in the 
Union The telegraph and other modern inventions 
for transmitting news, were yet unknown ; tidings 
came very slowly from the sick chamber at Mount 
Vernon, where the beloved chief lay on his death 
bed. At length a courier with dispatches rode up 
in haste ; the great General and the first President 
of the United States, was dead. This sad event, 
that cast a gloom over the whole country, occurred 
December 14th, 1790. 

In a few hours it was known in every farm-house 
in the little town of Rheinbeck that Washington 
was dead. Every detail of his last illness was 
quickly gathered up, and even the children paused 

14 John Bad i man. 

to listen. John remembered the grief and excite- 
ment, and the preparations for what, in the simple 
villag-e talk, was called " Waddngtoiis mock funeral.'' 
In every city and town, processions were formed 
that marched with badges of mourning through the 
principal streets to the churches, where suitable 
services were held and eulogies pronounced. In 
old age John Bachman would tell his grandchildren, 
*' When a boy in Rheinbeck, I followed the proces- 
sion at " Washington's mock funeral."' 

Those were days of stirring deeds in other lands. 
The old gazettes were anxiously ex-f^ected ; when 
they arrived, the sturdy farmer, in the evenings, 
laid aside his pipe and read to the assembled family 
the last foreign news — the announcement that the 
English General, Nelson, had destroyed the French 
fleet in Aboukir Bay. At another time, that the 
French General, with ten thousand men, after 
storming Jaffa, was retreating to Egypt, leaving a 
burning track behind him. Among the listening 
grouf), John was the eager questioner. Later the 
news came, " Napoleon has taken possession of the 
Tuileries and is declared first Consul," and, finally, 
"that he liad been crowned Emperor of France." 
l^erhaps the boy wondered why God had permitted 
the slaughter of the brave Swiss Guard while de- 
fending poor King Louis, whom the mob so soon 
})ut to death, and yet allowed Napoleon to be crow^ned 
lOmperor of France. At least, it is not unlikely that 
his ambitious soul was fired by these stories of great 
men and great deeds. 

A fouug KatiiraJisf. 15 

A stronger influence, however, was at hand. When 
he was eleven years old, Rev. Anthon T. Braun 
became ]3astor of the church at Schagticoke. 

The noble example, intellectual attainments, and 
earnest spirit of Pastor Braun, left their impress on 
the susceptible spirit of his young parishioner. 
Parental training had already broken for him the 
fallow ground, and prepared the mind of the boy 
for the reception of the good seed. The family dis- 
cipline of our fathers would, in our day, be con- 
sidered severe ; yet the reverence of the child for 
the parent and pastor, did not interfere with mutual 
love: and childhood was not less ha})py or buoyant 
til an to day. 

The subject of this memoir tells us, '' From my 
earliest childhood I had an irrepressible desire for the 
study of Natural History." Alluding to this period, 
his grandson, the Rev. John B. Haskell, has drawn 
the following picture : 

" In our mind's eye, we see the little fellow, after 
the day's v>'ork has been done, running off, with 
rapid stride and beaming face, to wander over the 
hillsides, where, perchance, he might meet his 
friends, the squirrels, the chipmunk, or the many 
feathered fellow-citizens of the wood. 

"Then we see him lying beneath some shady tree 
upon the bank of a stream watching, with his roving- 
blue eyes, the steady flow of the waters Is he 
dreaming? Is he poetizing? Nay; for suddenly 
we see the briglit eye brighten in the intensity of 
its gaze, and following the eager look, we see slowly 

16 John Bachmcm. 

rising from the still surface, near the opposite bank, 
a round, dark head, with soft, lustrous brown e3'es, 
glancing timidly around ; then another little head 
appears, and losing all fear in the certainty of 
safety, the beayers boldly gambol and play up and 
down, to and fro, upon the stream ; till, their recrea- 
tion over, they settle down to their business in 
a sober way. This change of action, discovers to 
the looker on, the little John Bachman, an un- 
finished beaver-dam, encroaching into the quiet 
brook. So our young naturalist studies the habits 
of the beaver. Suddenly the stillness of the evening 
is broken by the distant sound of a bell. Every 
beaver stops his work, and raises his head. We see 
a disapj)ointed look steal into the watcliing eyes, 
that peep througli the willows on the bank ; the 
young enthusiast would rather lose his supper, than 
the opportunity of delightful observation. Again, 
and louder sounds the clear bell : it is the pra^yer- 
bell ; the boy leaps to his feet; the little masons 
disappear with loud tlappings of their trowel-lik(- 
tails: and j)rest(), tlie scene has changed to the 
farm-housi', where the early evening meal has 
already ended. It is tlie tlianksgiving liour, and 
the household kneels to seek, as the last united at-t 
of the day, Divine protection. 

"The loving mother has sayed the boy's su[)p('r 
and gives it to him, but not without the well 
merited rehuke for absence from the evening meal. 
Then the father turns to his paper and his pipe ; 
the mother gives permission, and John is off like an 

A Young Naturalist. 17 

arrow to the little rocky glen where the Pewee has 
his nest. 

"Such are the faint pictures of his childhood, like 
some old amhrotype, or ancient photograph, with 
little, but the faded outlines, left ; yet sweet tons 
with memories, and bright to us with beauty." 

The schools of that day gave no long summer 
holidays, and on Saturdays, only an occasional 
half holiday ; but when books were laid aside, he 
was free to follow the bent of his inclination, and, to 
his heart's content, explore the valley and hill-side. 

Slavery still existed at that time in the State of 
New York, and like all his well-to-do neighbors, 
Jacob Bachman owned slaves. John, merry and 
daring, was idolized by these servants; especially 
by George, whose delight it was to accompany his 
young master into the woods, and to assist him to 
entrap animals and birds. 

The boy's investigating spirit impelled him, under 
many difficulties, to make further research. He 
writes : " Such were the preijudices existing in the 
community in those early, unenlightened days, 
against the supposed trifling pursuits of Natural 
History, that I pursued my investigations by 
stealth, and labored without those guides whicli 
numerous scientific works now present." 

One day, in Troy, perhaps, he met with several 
volumes at the book-sellers, that he ardently desired 
to possess. A happy thought came into the mind 
of the young, aspiring naturalist : " I wall earn the 
mone}^ and buy the books. George will help me to 

18 John BaclihiiUi. 

catcli the beaver and other fur-bearing animals, 
and I can sell the skins." The plan succeeded; in 
course of time the books were bought. He loved to 
tell his grandchildren how he sold his furs and 
purchased the coveted volumes. 

His mother was proud of her little student. In 
his reminiscences he tells us, " My mother made 
room for my treasures, and on very cold, rainy 
evenings I had a fire in the ' spare room,' where I 
could study in quiet." 

Very early in life he asked his father to send him 
to college. He had procured a Latin grammar, and 
was studying alone. No doubt Pastor Braun was 
then called upon to direct his Greek and Latin 
studies; and for recreation he had his few precious 
books on the Natural Sciences. 

He was strong in body, buoyant of spirit, and 
hopeful in temperament. \qv\ ready was he to 
take part in all out-door games that re({uired swift- 
ness of foot, or accuracy of eye. 

One day a great honor was c(>nferred upon the 
youth. The United States Exploring Expedition 
decided to make a visit to the Oneida Lidians. 
Mr. Knickerbocker required a secretary, and John 
Bachman was selected to accompany him in that 
capacity. It was, doubtless, a proud moment for 
the youth, and certainly must have recalled to his 
mind his old ancestor, who came from England to 
America as secretary to William Penn. With the 
blessing of father and mother he started with the 

College Life. 19 

111 those (lays, of course, (juill pens being used, 
tlie young Secretary was re(|uired to procure these 
for himself — and, as crow quills were abundant, im- 
mediately he begun to make a large collection of the 

He writes : " Because I collected crow quills, the 
Indians, in derision, gave me the soubriquet of 
' Crow Quill ; ' " soon after, however, we went on a 
Moose hunt. I took good aim, fired away, and heard 
them liallo : " Oh, you've killed him — you've killed 
liim." So the Indians changed my name to " Big 
Moose " This took place in the western part of the 
State of New York; the skin and the horns. of the 
Moose were taken home by the party and preserved 
in New York as a trophy." 

When the time arrived for John to enter college, 
Williams College, Massachusetts, was selected. He 
was just a little shy, but was found well prepared to 
enter the Freshman Class. Some of the Boston boys 
called the boys from Rheinbeck, in contempt, 
'' Dutchmen." John bore it for a time ; on one occa- 
sion, however, when the parties met at the head of the 
steps, and "Get out of the way, you Dutchmen," was 
the taunt, John^ boiling over with wrath, sprang for- 
ward, seized one of his tormentors by the arm, and 
sent him rolling down the steps. From the impetus 
he took a little tumble himself, but the class cheered, 
and the Rheinbeck boys henceforth were unmo- 

As the years rolled by, he became more and more 
absorbed in his studies ; lie sat u]) niglit after night 

20 .loll It Iluchntnu. 

studying aiul tliinkiiig. He who had been a hardy 
lad, breathing the pure country air, became a book- 
worm. No more merry snow-balling, no more out- 
door, invigorating exercise. Suddenly, one day, he 
feels a sharp and racking pain — the brain has been 
over-fed. and the body denied its needful rest. The 
result was not strange, but to the ardent student 
startling and unlooked for — he had a liemorrhage 
of the lungs, and was forced, just as he was about 
to gain the goal of his ambition, to leave college 
without graduating.* It was a bitter and humili- 
ating trial to him. He returned home weak and 
despondent. When strong enough, he roamed 
through the woody glens, and, resting under the 
shade of a tree, carved his name on the bark. 
But the healthful mother — Nature — was doing 
her appointed work. Sunlight and pure air. were 
her tonics; and, by degrees, hope revived, and 
strength of mind and body were renewed. Ambi- 
tious thoughts and aspirations again possessed his 
soul — but what avenue of distinction was now open 
to him? After much reflection, he selected the law 
as a profession ; procured the books, and became 
interested in the study — -'till there was ever an 
unrest, an unsatisfled craving, within him. 

His parents, from infancy, had instructed him in 
the Word of God — " Thy Word is a lamp unto my 
feet, and a light unto my path." One Sunday he 
took down an old volume from his father's book- 

*The degree of Mmfer of Arts was afterwards conferred 
upon liiiu l)y Williams College. 

ffis Callimj. 21 

shelf, entitled '' Lvtlur on (ialntlans ;'^ he read and 
re-read ; the book sent him to his Bible, with prayer ; 
new, higher, and holier aspirations, arose in his 
youthful soul — Jesus Christ, through St. Paul and 
Luther, liad sent him a special message. He had 
often read, " Thou art no more a servant, hut a son, 
an. heir of God through faith ;" but, to-day, the 
inspired words move his soul as they had never 
done before. 

The next morning he opened his law-book, but 
could not fix his mind upon the subject ; throwing 
it aside, he took his Bible and Luther on Galatians, 
and went into the woods. As he read and communed 
with his own heart, he saw no vision and heard no 
voice, save the still, small voice of his God. He 
said, " Speak, Lord ; here am L" and the message 
came to his soul, " Go thou and preach to others 
the glad tidings that have set you free." Say to 
every prisoner of liope, '• The just shall live by 

God had a definite work fur hiui, and the glory 
of his life, lienceforth, was to do the will of Him 
that sent him. 

His mother was the first to mark his thoughtful 
brow, and before long, his parents and Pastor 
Braun were made acrjuainted with his hopes and 
aspirations. All approved heartily, and rejoiced at 
his decision. He was confirmed, and became 
Pastor Braun's student. The early part of his 
student-life was spent under the roof of this taitli- 
ful friend and pastor. But, after a time, John 

22 Jolin Bacliman. 

craved advantages that \\\>: village home could not 
offer him. 

" I had intended," he writes, " to defray my own 
expenses by teaching, while studying for the 
ministry. First T went to Frankfort. Penn., where 
I remained nearly a year. On a short visit to 
Philadelphia, I met again the ornithologist, Wilson, 
and his nephew, AVilliam Duncan. AVilson had 
taught near Germantown, at Elwood School, Miles- 
town, and Duncan was his successor ; the position 
then vacant, was offered to me. Both Wilson and 
Duncan urged me to accept it. I taught at Elwood 
for a year. The school flourished in numbers; but 
was conducted in a very primitive fashion ; the 
pupils were of both sexes and of all ages. A small 
class in Latin, one in French, and one in German, 
were, with difficulty, kept up during my short stay." 
But Philadelphia was the goal of his wishes. 
Probably his friend, Rev. Philip Mayer, contributed 
to bring about this change. He taught in Phila- 
delphia a year, when his studies were so far com- 
pleted, that he was licensed to preach. 

It was })robably during his early student-life that 
this reminiscence belongs. The singing was ex- 
ecrable in the old Church of which he was a member. 
Although no musician himself, he always loved 
good singing. He set to work, therefore, to remedy 
the evil, with all the zeal that ever characterized his 
attempts at reform. He procured a singing master, 
and, by liis youthful eloquence, mustered a fine class. 
Soon the congregation took delight in the improved 

The Singing Class. 23 

singing. He watched over his class with great pride, 
not at all disconcerted by the fact, that it was soon 
discovered that his voice added nothing to the fine 
music, (although in speaking it was flexible and 
melodious.) His class did not prove an exception 
to most church choirs — the members fell out. Sadly 
he looked on, determined to help, if possible, but 
biding his time. On the next Sunday he anx- 
iously awaited the issue. The Pastor gave out the 
hymn ; an ominous silence reigned in the little 
Church ; John waited one moment, then, quick as 
thought, he rose in his seat and began to raise the 
tune. Smiles illumined the faces of the singers, and 
the leaders sang out lustily — and that was the end 
of the choir trouble. He would say to his grand- 
children, with a twinkle in his eye, " My class was 
afraid of my bad singing, so I won the day." This 
little scene illustrates the generous tact that was a 
characteristic of the subject of this memoir. He 
knew how to incite those around him to action ; he 
would set the example, and Avhen his companions 
excelled him, he could step aside with a smile, and 
rejoice with them over the laurels they had won. 
Perhaps this selflessness was one great secret of his 
power over men. 

Pastor Braun at this period, lived in his parson- 
age at Schagticoke, in that beautiful Hoosac region 
of country — a farm of fifty acres was attached to the 

Rev. Barnett in his " Gilead Church History," 
writes, " For a part of his student-life, John Bach- 

24 Jolin Bm-hmayi. 

man lived under the roof of this faithful minister.'^ 
Pastor Braun is said to have been a man of fine abil- 
ities; an indefatigable worker, firm in his convic- 
tions, consistent in his principles, mild in his man- 
ner, forbearing toward the erring, and kind-hearted 
to a fault. He secured universal respect toward him- 
self as a Cliristian gentleman and a faithful shepherd. ''^ 
In 1812, this good man's health failed and he be- 
came a confirmed invalid ; in 1813, at the age of 
sixty, he died. John Bachman became his successor^ 
the sixth Pastor of the three Churches which formed 
the Gilead Pastorate. "For the training of such 
a man," says Rev. Barnett, " The Lutheran Church 
owes Pastor Braun a debt of gratitude. So promi- 
nent a place did he subsequently attain among the 
great and learned men of his time, on both sides of 
the Atlantic, and so identified was he with the pro- 
gress of the Lutheran Church in this country, for 
more than half a century, as a man of extraordinary 
scientific attainments: that to merely mention Dr. 
Bachman's name here, will recall to mind morc^ 
than can be written of him in tliis brief history^ 
(Gilead,) and beget a feeling of just pride, to have it 
known that this illustrious man and eminent Chris- 
tian, was born here, studied here, entered tlie min- 
istry of tlie CI lurch here, preached his first sermons 
here, and was one of the pastors of Gilead." 

" Dr. Bachman remained in charge about a year 
and a half, when he was persuaded that duty and 
his health demanded his acceptance of a call to 
Cliarleston. Lliis decision occasioned great sorrow. 

P(/N/or at Gifead. 25 

When he delivered his farewell sermon in Gilead, 
the voice of lamentation and weeping tilled the 
house. At the close of the services they joined with 
him in singing a hymn the writer (Rev. Barnett) 
remembers to have heard in childhood, but which 
is no longer familiar. The first line was : 

" I'll take my staff and travel on." 

The subject of this memoir has left in his memo- 
randa this grateful record: "1 was especially in- 
debted to Dr. Quitman, of Rheinbeck ; to Rev. A. 
Brown, of New York : and to Dr. Mayer, of Phila- 
delphia, for their instructions while I was a student 
in Theology." 

Rev. Dr. Quitman and Rev. Dr. Philip Mayer, of 
Philadelphia, are thus described : " They were re- 
markable men, of polished learning, courtly man- 
ners and noble bearing. Quitman had been a 
teacher in the family of the Prince of Waldeck. 
They kept the traditions of a State Church and 
-firistocratic society. They were good pastors. They 
have left behind them a social influence, still fra- 
grant and wholesome. Their spiritual children are 
remarkable for their lofty integrity.* 

These Christian gentlemen, doubtless, contributed 
towards the moulding of John Bachman's charac- 
ter; and the gracious manner which distinguished 
him through life, may, in part, be attributed to 
those early influences and associations. 

*Rev. Edward T. Horn, in Yrar Booh of flw City of Charks- 
lon, 1S84. 

Pastor of St. John's. 

Called to st. John's ciiurcit. cnARLEsrox, *;. r. — early :srix- 
istry — layin'g of the corxer-stone of the new st. 
John's — maerl\ge — johx xicholas martix — birth of 
datghter — secoxd visit to his xortherx home. 


HE subject of this memoir writes 

" I would gladly have spent the remainder of my 
days among the friends and relatives of my boyhood 
and early youth. A hemorrhage of the lungs, how- 
ever, with which I had been attacked whilst at col- 
lege, was making a fearful inroad on my health, and I 
was advised by my physicians to seek relief in a more 
Southern climate. I took a sea voyage to the West 
Indies, and recuperated greatly. On my return to 
Rheinbeck I found that a call had been .sent from 
the congregation in Charleston, S. C, to the Presi- 
dent of the S3mod of Xew York, Dr. Quitman, with 
a request that he should recommend some clergy- 
man who might be adapted to this field of labor. 
He was the father of General Quitman, and was 
regarded as one of the most learned and eloquent 
men of his day. He, and my ever faithful friend. 
Dr. Mayer, of Philadelphia, proposed my name to 
the Cliarleston congregation. Pliey immediately 
sent me a call to become their pastor. After con- 
sulting with my family and congregation, they 
reluctantly gave me leave of absence for nine 

" An extra meeting of the Synod of New York had 

Arrival at Charleston. 27 

been convened for the purpose of ordaining me. It 
was held in the church where I had been baptized 
in infancy. Without returning home, I proceeded 
on m}' way to Charleston, S. C, and, on the 10th of 
January, arrived in the city. '' The means of trav- 
eling were very different from what they are now in 
the days of steamers and railroads. The roads were 
almost impassable ; as an evidence of this I would 
state that, with the exception of a Sunday, on 
which I preached for Dr. Mayer, of Philadelphia, I 
came in the regular stage line, which travelled day 
and night, and arrived at Charleston on the evening 
of the twenty-ninth day after leaving Dutchess 
County, which is a hundred miles north of the city 
of New York. In the meanwhile, our vehicles were 
either broken or overturned eight times on the 

" AVe were in the midst of a three years' war with 
the most powerful of foreign nations. Fearful bat- 
tles had occurred on our Northern frontiers, on the 
ocean, and on the lakes. The traces of devastation 
and death were visible in the half-covered graves 
along the highway between Baltimore and Wash- 
ington. The blackened walls of the Capitol at 
Washington, and the destruction in every part of the 
city, presented an awful picture of the horrors of 

On his arrival in Charleston he was welcomed by 
a deputation from St. John's Lutheran Church. 
The President of the congregation, Col. Jacob Sass, 
took him to his own liouse. His good wife and 
himself made him perfectly comfortable, and treated 
him as an honored guest. No member of St. 
John's exceeded Col Sass in energy and faithfulness. 
His pastor described him thus : '^ He was one of the 

28 John Bachman. 

purest and best men it had ever been my privilege 
to be associated with." The young pastor's pale 
face disturbed and distressed his parishioner ; '' You 
must live much in the open air and ride on horse- 
back," he said. The next day a good pony was put 
at his disposal. He rode out, and this was the 
scene that presented itself : 

" I found our citizens working on the lines of 
defence thrown around the land-side of our city — 
even ladies went there with hoes and spades to cheer 
the citizen-soldiers by their presence, their counte- 
nance, and example ; and I, too, joined, at least in 
form, for it was our common country that was to be 
defended. In the meantime, the battle of New 
Orleans had been fought on the 8th of January, and 
a treaty of peace had been signed at Ghent ; but 
these important events were not known until some 
time afterwards. The war had fallen heavily on 
our Southern people. The principle staple of our 
commerce, cotton, had for several years, during the 
embargo and war, been sold at a mere nominal 
value, and was stored away in various depositories 
in King street. Men had the necessaries of life,, 
and these were cheap; but all the means of enter- 
prise, and all the avenues to wealth, were closed up. 
Fortunately men were driven to the necessity of 
manufacturing their necessary articles, and they 
were compelled to deny themselves luxuries ; they 
studied economy, and hence there was not much 
suffering among our people from any want of the 
necessaries of life. But the constant dread of in- 
vasion and the sufferings and dangers to whicli our 
friends, who were in the army and at sea, were con- 
stantly exposed, kept the minds of our citizens in au 
unsettled and feverish state. 

St. John's Church. 2D 

'* When I arrived in Charleston, the congregation 
of St. John's worshipped in a small, wooden church, 
situated in the rear of the present church. It was 
an antiquated building of peculiar construction, re- 
sembling some of the old churches in the rural dis- 
tricts of Germany." 

Before us lies, in water colors, the south view 
of the old Church, built A. D. 175G, and also 
a view of the interior. It looks roomy. The small 
pulpit is high, the beams naked, the chancel un- 
railed, and the white altar large. The Pastor was 
required to wear the gown. 

One of the members of St. John's, Mrs. H. S. G., 
then a child, thus describes her impressions of the 
young pastor, on the Sunday he took charge of the 
congregation. " His height was medium ; his figure 
slender; his complexion fair; features regular and 
eyes blue. He looked very young — though in hia 
twenty -fifth year. His voice was strong, clear, and 
sweet. When the services were ended, we stopped to- 
be introduced to him, and his bright smile imme- 
diately won our hearts." 

It has been said of him, " Nature had made him 
tender-hearted and given him a tireless will." The 
congregation flourished greatly, and at Easter, 
sixty-four persons were confirmed. The building of 
a more commodious edifice was a pressing necessity ; 
subscriptions were forthwith collected, and contract* 
made for the same. 

In the midst of his enthusiastic labors, he turned 
a deaf ear to the voice from Schaghticoke urging 

80 , John Bachman. 

him, during the lieated term, to seek a more bracing 

The following letter from a young friend, Mr. 
Charles A. D., gives us a glimpse into the child- 
hood's home of the pastor of St. John's. 

Troy, June 1st, 1815. 
My Dear Johx: I was on a ride to Cambridge a 
few days ago When I reached the forks of the 
road (say at Wallbridge's), I could not for the life 
of me resist the temptation to turn to the left ; I 
jogged on slowly, keeping a bright look out for 
another left-handed turn. I soon discovered it, and 
had not proceeded far before I saw upon a tree 
'/ Jolm Baclmnati " incised into the bark ; convinced 
that I w^as, at any rate, wdiere you once had been, I 
rode on. In a lew minutes I had dismounted at 
your door. A young man met me at the gate, whom 
I recognized immediately as 3^our brother. Your 
father was not at home ; he had gone to Lansing- 
burg. I remembered that I had passed an old 
gentleman on the road, and had noticed a likeness 
in him to the picture of your father hanging in 
your room (in Charleston). I wish that I had 
stopped and spoken to him. 

: Your mother received me. As soon as I had 
said " I am Mr. Davis, from Charleston, a friend and 
neighbor of your son," I was made to feel almost as 
much at home as if I had been the Rev. Mr. Bach- 
man himself. 

. Your good mother could not keep back a tear, 
when she spoke of your separation from them, and, 
I confess, I felt moved. They had many questions 
to ask. and I many stories to tell. They pressed 
me heartily to remain ; but I was compelletl to go 
^n ; promised, however, another visit soon. I rode 

The Strangers' Fever, 31 

off, but ere the spot was hidden from view that had 
witnessed so many pleasing occurrences of your 
youthful days, I could not but glance behind me at 
the quiet scene, and, as I ascended the hill, repeat 
to myself the old lines beginning 

" Now love in this lone little spot with a maid, 
How blest he could live and how calm he could die." 

C. A. D. 

Before the close of the summer '* Strangers' Fever,"" 
as it was called, made its appearance in Charleston. 
The cause of this Southern scourge naturally claimed 
his earnest attention. Dr. David Ramsay, the histo- 
rian, wrote in 1800 ; " The disputes about the origin 
of Yellow Fever, which have agitated the Northern 
States, have never existed in Charleston. There is- 
but one opinion among the physicians and inhabi- 
tants, viz ; that the disease is neither imported nor 
contagious." As this was, almost the unanimous 
opinion of the Medical Society, the rigid enforcement 
of the quarantine laws was not insisted upon. But 
the Pastor of St. John's did not regard the question 
as finally settled. He had taken part at the North 
in the vexed question, and now, under the tutorage 
of a member of his congregation. Dr. Benjamin 
Strobel, he studied more closely the history, nature^ 
and treatment of the disease. He noted the course 
of treatment pursued b}^ this successful practitioner,, 
and before long, circumstances put his knowledge to 
the test. He tells us : 

" The first summer after my settlement in Charles- 
ton, the yellow fever made its appearance there, and 

32 John Bachman. 

threatened soon to become epidemic. Some of my 
friends in the Church came to me and earnestly ad- 
vised that, as I was not yet acclimated, it would be 
best foi me to leave the cit3% make a visit to my 
friends in the North, and not return until the dan- 
ger was over. I told them that I had no thought 
nor desire to do anvthing of the kind ; that I had 
<^ome to them to be their minister, and hardly 
thought it would be right for me to leave them in a 
time of trial, when they would probably have most 
need for my services. They continued to remon- 
strate with me for several days; but I stood to my 
resolution. Finally the Vestry sent me an official 
notice that the church would be closed after the 
following Sunday, for the space of three months; 
-and requested me to make that announcement from 
the pulpit. AVhen Sunday came I made the an- 
nouncement in accordance witli the order of the 
Vestry; but followed it with the notice to the effect 
that we had secured the use of a vacant chapel for 
the next three months, where I would be pleased to 
meet with any of the congregation who might be 
•disposed to come, at the usual hours for Sunday 

'' Soon after that I received a letter from home, 
telling me that my father was very ill, that he could 
not long survive, and that he was anxious to see me. 
Tlien I felt no hesitation about going. I took pas- 
sage upon a vessel just about to sail for New York. 
Before we were at sea twenty-four hours, we had two 
men down with 3'ellow fever, and the captain and 
all on board were ver}^ much alarmed at it, wonder- 
ing what was to be done. I told the captain that if he 
would put the medicine chest at my disposal and 
keep all the crew and passengers on deck, I would 
go below and take charge of the sick. He was 
greatly relieved at this, and made the necessary ar- 

A. Marriage Service. 33 

rangements very promptly. Well, what with rough 
weather and head winds, we had a slow time of it 
and were out about two weeks. B}^ the fourth day 
out I had, (I think, eight) patients on my hands. Of 
course, in the two weeks I did not take off my 
clothes, or go regularly to bed at all, and w^as on 
deck only once, to bury one of my poor fellows who 
had died. When we got to the quarantine station at 
New York my patients were all doing finely, though 
they were still as yellow as pumpkins." 

As he was never very sea-sick, he soon recovered 
from the self imposed fatigue of nursing the sick. 

Hastening, with anxious forebodings, to his old 
home, he found to his great jov, that his father was 

There was Itttle to mar the pleasure of this first 
visit to the scenes of his early labors. The next 
Sunday he was to preach to his former fiock. His 
father said to him " John, let Marriage be the sub- 
ject of your discourse." The hint was taken and the 
sermon prepared. On Sunday, long before the 
hour for service, the village congregations from the 
three churches flocked to the appointed place of 
worship. His text was a great surprise to many of 
his audience, for, until that morning, a profound 
secret had been faithfully kept. 

When the services were ended, fifteen couples pre- 
sented themselves to be united in marriage. John 
Bachman describes the scene thus : 

" Intense excitement was betrayed by the congre- 
gation as the young people, in pairs, walked up the 
aisle. I stood at the altar and gave the exordium. 

34 John Bachman. 

Then I walked clown the aisle asking the necessary 
questions of every couple, joined their hands together 
and pronounced them ' man and wife.' I was in- 
formed that as soon as it was known positively that 
I was expected in Khinebeck, these young people 
determined to give me this pleasant surprise. Some 
had delayed their weddings, and others hastened 
their preparations." 

An old letter of this date has been preserved by 
a member of the Horlbeck family. It is addressed 
to Mr. John Horlbeck, Senr., Charleston, S. G. The 
post-mark is Lansingburg, September .1st; it came 
duly to hand one month later, October 3rd; postage, 
37J cents. 

SCHAGHTICOKE, Aug. 31st, 1815. 

" I have enjoyed good healtli since I left you, and 
exposed myself so much to the heat of the sun, in 
riding and walking through the country, that I am 
several shades darker than I was when we parted. 

"My dear father is much better than I expected 
to find him. He is remarkably cheerful, and did I 
not know that his disorder is a lingering and dan- 
gerous one, I would flatter myself that he might 
yet be perfectly restored to health. My uncle met 
me in Philadelphia, spent a week with us here, and 
then returned to his residence in Rheinbeck. He 
is one of Dr. Quitman's congregation. To-morrow 
I leave Albany for Rhinebeck, where I expect to 
meet the Synod. My old congregations are so anx- 
ious for me to continue with them, that they have 
sent petitions to the Synod, in hopes that its mem- 
bers may prevail upon me to accept their call. But 
I can assure you that though my native spot is dear 
to me, yet nothing would induce me to remain. 

Visit to his Old Home. 35 

Charleston I consider as my home ; and unless its 
inhabitants treat me with greater neglect than they 
have heretofore done, they will have to keep me for 
life. lam anxious to hear what progress you make 
in building the new church. I hope you are all 
united and walk hand in hand. I am pleased to 
hear that yourself and brother are to do the brick 

Give my best respects to Mr. Strohecker and 
family. He presented me with a cane to take with 
me as a present to my father. I thought highly of 
it, and carried it safe to Rhinebeck. There, in the 
hurry in putting my things on board of the boat, it 
was thrown into the dock. The boat could not 
wait, and I offered a dollar to the person who would 
dive for it. I hope to obtain it again, as a gentle- 
man who resides there promised to attend to it. 
My father speaks often of the present ; particularly 
on account of the distance it has been sent, the 
person who sent it, and the circumstance of its being 
of Orange wood. 

Write me when it will be prudent for me to 
return to your city, as I shall not stay longer than 
is absolutely necessary. Yours, with esteem, 

J. B. 

The prudence exercised was in deference to the 
wishes of his Vestry. 

Such was the zeal of the congregation of St. 
John's that, notwithstanding the absence of their 
pastor, the corner stone was laid on the Sth of 
August, Bishop Dehon, of the Episcopal Church, 
performing the ceremony."^ 

*On the death of Bishop Dehon, June, 1817, a letter of 
condolence was sent by the Vestr^^ and St. John's was 
draped in mourning. 

36 John Bachman. 

In the Fall of this year, with renewed strength 
and energy, he returned to his post of duty in 

Col. Sass again claimed the young pastor as his 
guest, and his grandson, Jacob Schirmer (then a lad), 
was at hand to offer his services to his pastor. In 
his old age, Mr. Schirmer used to tell us, with much 
glee, " And he did make use of me. I was the 
bearer of his love letters, when he was engaged in 
marriage to Miss Harriet Martin." In 181() this 
happy union was consummated. 

Miss Martin was the granddaughter of Rev. John 
Nicholas Martin, the fourth pastor of St. John's 
Lutheran Church, Charleston. 

When the quaint little wooden church was dedi- 
cated, June 27th, 17G4, on St. John Baptist's Day, 
under the name of St. John's Church, Pastor Martin 
w^as the minister in charge. He filled the pulpit 
acceptably for three years. In 1767, he resigned his 

The Patriarch Missionary of the Lutheran Church, 
H. M. Muhlenberg, in August, 1773, heard Rev. 
Martin preach an afternoon sermon in St. John's, 
(Rev. Daser was then pastor), Muhlenberg's droll 
criticism of the sermon is preserved in his " Journal." 

'' Rev. Martin preached from the text, * My house 
shall be called a house of prayer.' Pie showed liow 
we ought to go to the house of God, and how to be- 
have outside of it. In the first part, he proposed 
six steps to lead us into it ; the second part was 
intended foi^ the other subject. All was ingeniously 

Refv. John Nicholas Martin. 37 

illustrated with sentences and quotations. But, 
from the sliortness of time, and the great heat, 
(August 29th), he did not show us any other outlet, 
and we were obliged to return by those six steps, 
and finish where we had begun."* 

We ma}^ hope that the heat, etc., had its full share 
in the short comings of that particular sermon, 
delivered by our brave, useful, and beloved an- 

In 1774, a letter was sent to Pastor Martin, be- 
seeching him to serve his old charge. Pie replied, 
" In compliance with the desire of the vestry, 
(St. John's), I will serve the Evangelical congrega- 
tion of Charleston, one and a half years, etc. Deo 
volente, will take charge the first Sunday in Advent." 
When the time of this engagement drew to a close 
and there was no hope of obtaining a pastor from 
abroad. Pastor Martin was induced to engage for 
two years longer. The subject of our Memoir tells 
us, " During the stormy season of the Revolution 
the Germans of Charleston had been the strenuous 
advocates and defenders of* the rights of their 
adopted country. ' The German Fusilier Company ' 
was formed from the original members of St. John's 
congregation. They participated in the dangers 
and sufferings of the Revolution, and their captain 
fell at the siege of Savannah. Their pastor, the 
Rev. John Nicholas Martin, on his refusal to 
pray for the king, was driven from his church and 

*Life and Times of H. M Muhlenberg, by W. J. 
Mann, D. D. 

38 Jolin Bachman. 

his property confiscated. He was, for a time, under 
arrest, and afterwards was compelled to leave the 
city, to which he did not return until the close 
of the war." 

His farm was situated about a mile from Charles- 
ton. The fiimily chronicle tells us that during the 
Kevolutionary War our own troops, " fearing that 
the farm-house might furnish a cover to the enemy's 
approach, twice put a torch to it." When Rev. 
Martin retired fiom the active ministry,^ he re- 
turned to his little farm — a spot connected with so 
many historical associations. Here, beloved and 
honored, he died at an advanced age, in 1797. 

At this farm-house,"^ January 23rd, 181(3, his 
granddaughter, Harriet, was united in marriage 
with Rev. John Bachman. 

One of the old members of St. John's, (now de- 
ceased), remembered the first parsonage — a house 
in the western part of the city. Both husband and 
wife had a taste for gardening. Together they 
trained the vines, and soon the barren spot was 
made bright with annuals and roses. 

In December a daughter, Maria, was born in the 
pastor's home. 

August, 1817, w^e find him with his household, on 
a visit to the old homestead at the North. The 
farm-house was roomy and the welcome warm. 

A faithful old colored nurse, Mary Ann, took 
charge of the baby. Mary Ann had felt sundry 
misgivings with regard to visiting "outlandish 

*Now known as the Geiger Farm. 

Prejudice. 39 

places;" yet the abounding good cheer of the 
farm proved very acceptable to the old nurse. 
On their homeward journey, however, they spent 
a week in the City of New York. Nothing 
could exceed the discontent and disgust expressed 
by old Mary Ann. Everything she pronounced 
was better in Charleston. Vainly they tried to 
impress her by taking her to see the impos- 
ing buildings in the great city — all to no pur- 
pose ; she insisted that an old, unsightly building 
in the suburbs of Charleston, the '* Tobacco Inspec- 
tion," was finer than any of them. So much for 
prejudice ! 

The New St. John's, 


THE corner-stone of the new St. John's had been 
hiid August 8th, 1815. The mechanics were 
nearly all drawn from the congregation, and the 
work was vigorously carried on. 

The old church was every Sunday crowded to 
overflowing. We can picture the congregation, after 
service, pausing to mark the progress of the new 
building. The members, young and old, did their 
part. The pulpit, with its high sounding-board, 
was the gift of the ladies of the congregation — (at 
the cost of $1,000, exclusive of the mahogany, which 
was presented by Col. Sass). A year after the dedi- 
cation of the church the tablets were put up by the 
young people. Thus all felt a lively and wholesome 
interest in the new church-building, Sunday, Jan- 
uary 8th, 1818. it was dedicated. 

At 11.30 A. M., the vestry, headed by the venera- 
ble Col. Sass, the building committee, and the cler- 
gymen of the city, walked in procession from the 
old to the new St. John's, 

John G. Schwartz. 41 

A band of music performed a sacred piece. (The 
organ was not completed until a year later.) 

The impressive dedication service was read • 
Bishop Dehon and other Episcopal clergy assisting 
in the opening service. 

The following hymn was sung, led by the Union 
Harmonic Society, accompanied by the band : 

" And will the £?reat eternal God 
On earth establish His abode? 
And will He from his radiant throne 
Regard onr temples as His own." 

The sermon was preached by the pastor ; text, 1st 
Kings, viii c, 27th v. : *' Behold, the heaven, of 
heavens cannot contain Thee, much less the house that I 
have Imilded" 

In 1819, we find him busy among the children of 
the churcli, organizing his Sunday-school. 

Ever interested in the cause of education, the 
" German Friendly Society " school especially 
claimed his attention. For many years the institu- 
tion flourished. Among the pupils in whom he 
took a deep interest, was his ward, John Schwartz, 
who uniformly held the first rank in his class. 

One cold, rainy morning, John knocked at his 
pastor's study-door. He had came to remind him 
that the year of his probation was ended. After 
daily reflection and prayer, his desire to consecrate 
his life to the service of the church remained un- 
changed. From that day he became his pastor's 
special charge, and was considered almost as a mem- 
ber of his familv. 

42 Jolin Bad t man. 

July, 1821, the angel of death entered the pastor's 
bright home, and bore away the darling of the 
household, Cordelia, aged seven months. It was 
the first break in the family circle. Three daugh- 
ters remained to ble^s the home. The following 
January the angel of life brought comfort and joy 
to the hearts of the sorrowing parents. A son was 
born, and baptized John. The healthy baby throve, 
was fair and beautiful; five months later (June, 
1822), after a few days illness, he died, and the 
second little mound was raised in the cemetery of 
St. John's. 

In September, 1823, a letter from his sister, Eva, 
Mrs. Dale, informed him that his father's life was 
endangered by another stroke of paralysis, and that 
his mother needed his presence. In haste, he 
obeyed the summons. 

October 23, 1823. 
To Mrs. Bachman : 

" My poor father's health is precisely as it was 
when I wrote. It makes me melancholy to leave 
him in this condition, but it seems to be a duty, as 
he may continue in this state for, a month or two. 
I shall soon be with you, and a thousand times 
happier than ever to be at home. Even now as I 
think of it, I am readv to chide the tardy-gaited 
hours." * ^^"^ * * J. B. 

Childhood's memories of the joyous day of his 
return home have been preserved. The hearty 
greetings, and rather noisy welcome of the chil- 
dren. The opening of a barrel of Northern fruit, 

Characteristic Traits. 43 

etc. No apples seemed to the little girls so rosy 
cheeked and juicy as those that grew in grand- 
father's orchard ; and no butter so golden as the 
produce of grandmother's dairy. 

In December, the accounts of his father's health 
were favorable. Months glided into years, and still 
the evil day was put off — his father's death did not 
occur until three years later. 

The pastor of St. John's had a keen relish for life. 
His parishioners delighted to have him share their 
hospitality; and though he was too busy a worker 
to spend much time at the table, he gladly accepted 
a cordial invitation to one of his many homes — and 
he had almost as many homes as f^imilies in his 
congregation. He scarcely noticed what his hostess 
set before him ; in fact, some of the old ladies assert 
that he would readily partake of a second dinner. 
As he was a good talker, full of anecdote and ready, 
harmless wit, we surmise that he did not always get 
his full share at the first table, so willingly con- 
cluded the meal at the second. Besides, he was a 
continuous worker, almost beyond his strength, and 
needed nourishing food to build him up. He 
disliked wine, declaring that it never agreed with 
him ; a cup of tea — and a large one — he enjoyed. 
In his old age, the good wife would return one of 
his many little jokes, for while he was talking in an 
earnest, animated strain, she would slily continue 
to replace the empty cup with a full one, and when 
the tea drinking was over, have a laugh at his 
expense, in which he would join heartily, declaring 

44 John Bachman. 

that one who had received many cups of tea, of 
such excellent quality, had the advantaoe on liis 

In Jul3% 1824, a second son was joyfully welcomed 
in the pastor's home, and baptized 'Henry. The 
joy proved of short duration ; the babe was delicate 
from birth ; soon its moans smote the hearts of its 
parents, and another tiny mound was raised beside 
the graves of his little brother and sister. 

In 1827 twin daughters were born in the parson- 
age. The young folk of tlie congregation were 
delighted. One young girl learned to use her 
needle skilfully while making twelve beautiful 
dresses for the pastor's twins, Ellen and Clara. 
Amono; sundrv useful oifts that found their wav to 
the parsonage, was a dainty straw double cradle; 
a memento preserved in his family for more than 
half a centur3\ 

Amidst famil}^ j<^ys, the tidings came that his 
venerable father, Jacob Bachman, had been sud- 
denly called from earth. It was a sore grief to him 
that he had not been present to close the eyes of 
his beloved parent. The following June, 1827, he 
prepared to visit the deserted home of his child- 
hood and yo-utli, in order to settle up his father's 

Expecting to be absent for six weeks, he left his 
church in charge of his student, John G. Schwartz. 
Another of his home students, William D. Strobel, 
accompanied liim to New York. 

They sailed from Charleston, July 27th. The 

Margaret Bowen. 45 

family of his friend, Bishop Bowen, were among the 
passengers ; the Bishop was not on board. 

At Si<:a, in Sight of Land, 

July 2nd, 1827. 
To Mrs. Bachman : 

As we hope to be at anchor some time to-night, I 
write to have a letter ready for the first mail. 

Last Friday, a most melancholy scene was pre- 
sented, which has cast a gloom around us. Mrs. 
Bowen's daughter, Margaret, who had been very sea- 
sick, was taken with convulsions. Every thing was 
done for her that could be suggested, without a phy- 
sician on board, but all to no purpose; she died a few 
hours later. Among the other griefs of Mrs. Bowen 
was the thought of being obliged to have her dead 
child cast into the sea. I felt greatly interested, and 
we, at last, tli ought of a mode of preserving the 
body — a box tightly packed with sawdust and ice.* 
Mrs. Bowen bore the blow like a saint. Yesterday 
(Sunday) we had service on board, and I, at the 
request of the passengers, gave a sermon alluding 
to the melancholy event. There was great atten- 
tion, and great solemnity. The crew of this ship is 
an excellent one. I have not heard an oath or an 
improper word, and the passengers have been united 
and attentive. 1 tried to make myself useful, and 
believe, in some respects, I have succeeded." 

J. B. 

When the}^ reached Staten Island, the vessel cast 
anchor, while he performed the last sad rites for his 
little friend, Margaret Bowen. 

*A fellow-passenger gives the following account: "Through 
the influence of Rev. .John Baehnmn, the passengers signed 
a paper, unanimously requesting the captain to dispense 
with ice during the passage." 

46 John Bachmaa. 

Lansingbueg, July 14th, 1827. 

I have slept very little since I left Charleston. On 
board of the ship, I felt as though I had only dozed, 
and the stage driver knocked us up at 3 A. M. We 
traveled over a rough and mountainous country; 
the roads were dusty and disagreeable; yet I am in 
excellent health. 

My dear old mother is, perhaps, better than I 
expected to find her. She has the use of her hands, 
but is obliged to walk with crutches — (the result of 
a foil.) I fear that she will be compelled to use 
them for the rest of her days. The old home is 
shut up. Sister Eva (Mrs. Dale) has taken our 
mother to her house in Lansingburg. Her girls are 
charming, and remind me of my own at home. 

J. B. 

Fort Plain, July 17th, 1827. 

My Dear Harriet : As I have to-day commenced 
a journey in a novel conveyance, that of the Tow 
Boat, on the '* Great Western " or Erie Canal, I have 
concluded to while away a half hour, while we are 
leisurely moving up Clinton's big Ditch, in writing 
to you. 

i have taken this tour, because the executors of 
my father's estate, will not be ready for a settlement 
until after harvest; and, because I wish to divert 
my mind from the melancholy scenes to which I 
should be exposed, were I to remain for the next 
fortnight in the neighborhood of my former resi- 
dence. Early this morning, I took another view of 
Schenectady. At eight o'clock we went on board of 
the packet-boat "Albany," and commenced our 
voyage, (if I may use the expression). The boat is 
of a very singular construction. It is about seventy- 
five feet long, carrying eighty tons — ours, however^ 

An Old-time Voyage. 47 

being a packet boat, is only intended for passengers. 
It has all the conveniences of a steamboat, without 
danger, and without the noise of the wheels. It is 
towed by from one to three horses. A long rope is 
attached to the boat. We are every moment pass- 
ing boats laden with produce, on their way to the 
Hud.son River. There are already three thousand 
boats on the canal, and there are hundreds more 
building. The following is something like a sketch 
of a boat as it appears when pa.ssing up this canal. 
{Here a pen and ink sketch is introduced). The 
boatmen have a merry life — no storms, no fear 
of w^recks, always able to jump on shore, never 
obliged to wait for a fair wind, able to calculate, to 
an hour, the time of their arrival at their destined 
port ; meeting ever}^ moment with their friends, 
laughing and joking, and seeming all in a good 
humor. The boats pass each other almost as easily 
as wagons in King, street, and a boat passes a lock 
in five minutes, and sometimes in half the time. 
When we come to a lock, I am in the habit of jump- 
ing on shore and picking up all the plants in bloom 
that appear new to me. The sweetbriar everywhere 
grows along the canal ; the air in some places is 
scented with a purple asclepias. The elder and 
sumach are the most common jdants now in blos- 
som. The gooseberry is found hanging almost in 
the water. The black raspberry is most abundant. 
A beautiful species of purple columbine is clamber- 
ing among the rocks. The hills are covered with 
tall trees of the butternut and shell -bark, bending 
with nuts. The chestnut is in full blossom. The 
mountain scenery is very pretty along the banks of 
the canal, as we hug closely the Mohawk River, and 
are frequently in sight of the main road. In one or 
two places the mountains rose perpendicularly for 
two or three hundred feet. Some seemed fairly un- 

48 John BacJiman. 

dermined by the rains, by the trickling of water 
from the springs, and by the winter frosts. Half 
w^ay up the steeps of these rocks which are a forma- 
tion principally of sand and limestone, you often 
see large holes, like the mouths of vast caves. The 
fish-hawk builds his nest on some half decayed 
hemlock tree; and where the bank swallows can 
find earth, they build their nest by hundreds, and 
their young are everywhere poking out their heads. 

Ogdensburg, on the River St. Lawrence, 

July 28th, 3 827. 

I write in the midst of hurry and bustle to say 
that we are all well, and that, thus far, with the 
exception of a little detention, our journey has been 
a pleasant and an improving one. This is a very 
boisterous lake — an inland sea. We were driven 
into Sackett's Harbor by a gale, and detained for 
the greater part of a day, and I was more sea-sick 
(if I may use that expression of a freshwater lake) 
than I ever was at sea. The boat was good, and was 
made to stand the gales on this lake ; but the ma- 
chinery is miserable. Every now and then w^e were 
obliged to stop and tinker the boiler, and if it had 
not been for a fine breeze that favored us yesterday, 
I do not know when we should have arrived. Yes- 
terday, however, we were repaid for all our deten- 
tions, in the beautiful, romantic views presented by 
this splendid river — the St. Lawrence. It has a 
character peculiar to itself, and no one that ever saw 
it can forget it. The waters of the lake are so clear 
that you can see thirty or forty feet down, and the 
shores are, generally, bold and rugged — no weeds — 
no marshes, and seldom low grounds, consequently 
it is supposed to be more healthy than some of the 
other lakes. Cases, however, of fever and asue occur 

()n the St. Lawrence. 49 

at some places, and what is called " Lake Fever/* 
bearing some resemblance to our country fever, 
sometimes, though rarely, occurs. The River St. 
Lawrence, contrary to most rivers, which run south, 
has a northeasterly course. Its shores are rocky, 
and in many cases the water is fifty feet deep, only 
three feet from the shore. Indeed, the rocks seem 
almost perpendicular. This river is studded with 
about seventeen hundred islands, some of them not 
five feet wide. A rock rises out of the water to the 
height of ten or twenty, or even a hundred feet. It 
has a tree or two upon it, which withstands all the 
storms and violence of this mighty river. Some- 
times it looks like a dining table with an umbrella 
over it. Sometimes you imagine that a row of stone 
houses, forming a little village, lies before you ; at 
other times, you fancy there is a mighty castle in 
sight. You think you see the cannon frowning 
upon you ; but it is all a deception, all made by the 
hand of nature, and man has had nothing to do 
with it. The navigation is by no means difficult. 
There appear to be no sunken rocks, and a man has 
only to keep his eyes open, and avoid the little 
islands that seem to float like ducks upon the water.* 
In general, the islands and the shore are sterile 
and there must be hard scratching for a living. 
Here and there, you see a log cabin along the 
water's edge with a sign hung out on some hemlock 
tree, indicating that there are accommodations for 
the voyager — miserable accommodations they must 
be. On the Canada side, there are fine farms and 
orchards, many noble stone houses, and, in some 
places, an appearance of wealth and plenty; and on 
the American side, wherever the land is good, clear- 
ings are beginning to be made. Although this is 

*This was before he reached the rapids at Montreal. 

50 Jolin Bachr.ian. 

yet a frontier, the time is not far distant, when it 
will contain a busy, enterprising population. 

Tell our little Maria that if she will trace our 
journey on the map, and give us an accour^t of all 
the rivers, where they rise and where they empty, 
and tell us the number of inhabitants in the towns, 
I shall bring her a fine present. 

I have just received a visit and a rec[uest, that T 
should preach in the Presbyterian Church, as the 
minister is absent, I cannot refuse. 

Kiss all the children for me, and love to tliB 
wdiole row of friends, J. B. 

Montreal, Lower Canada, 

August 1st, ]827. 

I will have much to tell you about Canada, be- 
sides some trifles of Indian manufacture to give you 
on my return. The difference between the Upper 
and Lower provinces is very great, both as it regards. 
the face of the country, and its inhabitants. In Up- 
per Canada, you find a soil and people similar to 
that of the United States, under the same latitude. 
In Lower Canada, you appear at once to have fallen 
upon a strange land and people. There is some- 
thing peculiar in the Canadian character. Thosa 
who are nearly descended from the French are a 
lively, thoughtless set, careless of to-morrow ; and 
particularly the boatmen are indifferent of fatigue, 
and appear to be happy in their ignorance. 

In Montreal, there are several things that strike 
the attention as peculiar. Their streets are very 
narrow ; houses of a dull and gloomy appearance, 
built of stone, covered with tin, and their doors of 
sheet iron. This was a fashion in ancient days, 
when, in the time of the Indians, every man's house 
was his castle Iho grey stone houses art^ 

Letters to the Children. 51 

clumsil}^ built, and, withal, the town has a heavy, 
sombre cast. The next peculiarity is the number 
of Indians we everywhere meet with — in the mar- 
ket, in particular. They are full of traffic, and are 
rather better dressed than J expected. We visited 
St. Regis, the residence of the Indians — a village 
with a Catholic Church. There are but two white 
families in this place. J. B. 

Fkom his Journal. August 9th, 1827. 

Left Lansingburg at 8 A. M., in company with my 
sister Eva, and my sister-in-law, Miss Martin. At 
Troy, we took tlie steamboat, and reached upper 
Red Hook Landing in the afternoon ; that night we 
spent at my uncle S's. He has a charming family; 
his wife is a model of what a woman ought to be, 
and the daughters are pretty, amiable and indus- 
trious. Last night I slept badly and was feverish. 

To Mrs. Bachman. 

Lansingburg, August 7th, 1827. 

My Dear Harriet: I am longing to be with you 
in Charleston. The thought of my silent, deserted 
old home here, is very painful to me. 

I have, to-da}^ had my last meeting with my 
father's Executors; and I believe that my mother's 
affairs are so arranged that she will be above Avant, 
during the rest of her life. 

I will devote the remainder of my time in writ- 
ing to the children. 

To Miss Maria R. Bachman (Aged eleven.) : 

My dear daughter Maria: I have received your 
very affectionate letter and rejoice to hear from your 
mother that you are studious, industrious, and well 

52 John Bach man. 

I thank you for your letter: you will be remem- 
bered when I reach New York. 

Try ever to please 3'our mother, and then I can 
cheerfully subscribe myself, 

Your affectionate father, 

J. B. 
To Miss Mary Eliza: 

My dear Eliza: Your letter was a very good one 
for a ^irl of your age, I am glad that you promise 
to write again, and to try, each time, to improve up- 
on the last. 

I hope on my return, that your mother may be 
able to tell me that you have been obedient and in- 
dustrious. Kiss grand-mama Davis* for me and 
tell her I thank her for having helped to keep alive 
our poor little Ellen, (one of the twins.) 

Your loving father, 
J. B. 
To Miss Jane Lee Bachman: 

My dear daughter Jane: When you are older» 
and when your eyes grow strong, you, too. will 
write me a letter, and try to do as well as the rest of 
the girls. 

Tell your teacher to let you have a holiday when 
f^ither comes home, and give a " howd'ye " from me 
to all the servants. Your loving father, 

J. B. 

To Miss Harriet Eva Bachman : 

My dear little Harriet: Your father will not for- 
get you. Be a good girl, and, on Monday morning, 
quite early, you will get up and say, '' father and 
aunt have come home," and then we shall open the 
trunks, and then — ! Kiss little Julia for me ; tell 
her to learn to talk plain before we come home; and 

*A devoted friend whom the children called Grand-mother. 

Hope Deferred. 53 

say to the twins, father wants them to make haste 
and grow fat. Your loving father, J. B. 

P. S. — Dear IT ije : Let chanticleer rather be locked 
up than give offense to your neighbors. I am sorry 
for the loss of the geraniums and the ducks ; but it 
would help neither, were I to cry my eyes out, and 
I hope that you w411 not make yourself unhappy 
about these trifling things. My love to your mother, 
and thanks to all wdio helped you nurse our Ellen. 
Remember me to John Schwartz ; tell him when he 
goes to the postoffice to-morrow, he will find a letter 
from me. Your affectionate husband, J. B. 

The morrow came, but did not bring the promised 
letter. Little Harriet and the rest of the loving-^ 
household watched and waited — the absent one 
came not. He was lying ill, almost unto death, in 
New York, from a fever contracted on the lakes. 



What doest thou ? Go on thy way, 

Thy work thy Lord providing, 
Thy strength conferring day by day, 

Tiiy steps His Spirit guiding. 

George H. BAHCorK. 

Extreme illness from a fever contracted on the "(ireat 



{Krtrarfs from Jour/iols.) 

Au(/)id 10th. — This iiiorning, after breakfast, I 
paid a visit of an liour to Dr. Quitman. I rode a 
rough-going liorse, felt a good deal incommoded, 
and returned home with a little fever. Before night 
I grew worse. On the morning of the 11th, fearful 
that I should become very sick, and anxious to 
obtain suitable medical assistance, I determined on 
going immediately to New York. We arrived at 
what is called the State Dock, in Rhinebeck: but we 
were a few minutes too late, and saw the steamboat 
])ass. Here I took a bed, having the fever on me. 
In tlie afternoon we crossed the river to meet 
another steamboat. We had a horrid time in cross- 
ing. It was raining — the boat was loaded to the 
water's edge, and crowded with passengers — the 
ladies were mucli alarmed, and we were thankful 
that we crossed over with our lives. The steamboat 

Illness. 55 

soon arrived, and we got on board. 1 immediately 
took to my berth, very sick. About nine o'clock 
they were obliged to have my sister (Mrs. Dale) sent 
for, as I had fainted. Here was another trouble. 
The passengers took fright, and as I had to be led 
on deck by a couple of servants, they all took to 
their heels, like a flock of frightened sheep, down 
into the forward cabin ; but, having occasion to pass 
through that way as the nearest to my berth, they 
again took a fresh start. I believe if I had followed 
them up, some of them would have jumped over- 
board. When I got fairly into my berth, down 
came the captain, sent by the passengers, to know 
what kind of fever I had. I was afraid they meant 
to land me on some desolate place, and so gave them 
a full account of all that I had experienced. I heard 
no more, but spent a most dreadful night. I was 
glad to see the morning light of Sunday. 

August 12th. — Miss Martin had early written a 
note to Mr. Mortimer, a kind friend, who had been 
our traveling companion for many hundred miles. 
He came immediately, and wanted to take me to his 
house. This I declined, and was driven to Mrs. 
Waldron's, in Broadway, whose kindness and sym- 
pathy I shall ever have reason to remember. Dr. 
Mott, one of the most skilful physicians in New 
York, was called in. He immediately recommended 
cupping — a horrible operation ; Vjut it greatly re- 
lieved my head — the principal seat of the disease. 

ISth of August. — I awoke under the impression 
that my fever was to be of short contiinumce. 
That afternoon, however, it returned. 

On the 19th, my ej^e-sight was gone — the whole 
world was shut up to me in darkness. I tried, some- 
times, to convince myself that I was under a delu- 
sion; but I soon knew that it was all a sad reality. 
The conviction flashed over my mind — here your 

56 John Bachman. 

earthly pilgrimage is to be brought to a close. It 
struck me as somewhat strange that I should be 
torn, at so early an age. from my wife, my children, 
and my people. But I recalled to my mind how 
many had, under similar circumstances, been re- 
moved from the midst of their families and useful- 
ness, and I ceased to murmur. I liad, for some 
3^ears, made no will. My property had undergone 
some changes, and my affairs in the North and 
South, were not satisfactorily settled ; but I found 
my mind was not strong enough to support the in- 
vestigation. With a heavy heart, I turned my 
thoughts to my dear family. I had lived with my 
wife for tvrelve years. She had been one of the 
most fond and affectionate of wives. Her life had 
been devoted to me ; and with her I had spent the 
happiest years of my life. Never had two persons 
lived more harmoniousl}^; and to die now, far 
away from her, was most distressing — and then my 
seven little children. Where is the parent who can 
be willing to part from these, without casting one 
longing, lingering look behind? But I remem- 
bered the promises of God. *♦*>!< 
Then I began to inquire, Is thy heart right with 
God? It was a solemn inquiry. I remembered that 
my life had been far from perfect, and that in my 
younger years, I had been rather wild. Still I re- 
membered, too, that I liad early commenced the 
study of divinity, and undeviatingly endeavored to 
pursue the path of integrity and usefulness. Through 
the mercy of a Saviour, I hoped I could look forward 
to the salvation of my soul. But before I had time to 
go over half the ground, I found an inexpressible 
satisfaction and joy within. Nothing that this 
world can afford, can ever be equal to it. There 
were no forebodings, no fears, no doubts, and I was 
enabled inwardlv to say, '' deatli, where is thy 

Recovery. 57 

sting, O grave, where is thy victory — thanks be to 
God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord 
Jesus Christ." I wished for nothing more, and I 
cheerfully resigned myself, and all that was mine, to 
that Great Being, who holds in his hands the keys 
of life and death, and who goes with his children 
through the lonely grave even to the resurrection of 
the just. 

In the mean time, another physician had l)een 
called in. My distressed sister-in-law, Miss Martin, 
considered it all over with me, and gave the sad 
intelligence to my family in Charleston. 

The kindness of friends, the skill of Physicians, 
the prayers of Ministers, seemed all to be of no avail, 
till on the night of the 23d of August. 

I began to feel an unusual burning in the back 
of my neck. All night I was in excruciating pain, 
and, when the light of the morning broke into my 
chamber, — Great God — I could seel I looked, and 
looked again, and the light seemed to come upon me,, 
like an angel's visit, to bid me live. l" looked 
around my chamber, and every well known object 
became familiar. I tried to rouse myself to ascer- 
tain whether all was not delusion, but Miss ^lartin 
and Miss Cross, came in at that moment, and I saw 
every feature in their countenances. They noted 
the change, and their hearts overflowed with joy 
and gratitude. 

Yes. it was the will of heaven that I should live. 
That I should look again on the charms of earth 
and heaven; that I should go on the mighty waters; 
that I should mingle in the family circle, embrace 
wife and children, and enjoy that heaven on earth — 
domestic felicity ! It appeared to be the will of God 
that I should again minister to my people, and 
preach the everlasting gospel to a sinful world — 
teach truth, integrity, justice, and mercy to man^ 

58 Joliu Bachinan. 

and direct tlie sinner to that Saviour, whose lan- 
guage is, " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
the waters ; and he that hath no money — come, buy 
wine and milk, without money and without price." 
" Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous 
man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, 
and he will have mercy upon him ; and unto our 
God and he will abundantly pardon." About 9 A. 
M., the physicians came in. Their countenances 
brightened, and I heard Dr. Nelson, whose counte- 
nance I now saw for the first time, exclaim: 
"Now all is safe." From that moment I date my re- 

August ^9th. — I was so much better, that I could 
be left alone. In the absence of Miss Martin, I 
crawled out of bed, found pen and paper, and be- 
gan a letter to my wife, knowing that it would afford 
her great delight to be told by my own hand-writing 
that I was safe. 1 filled my paper, and found that 
I had yet a hundred things to say. 

August oOtli. — Wrote to my vestry. — [Letter given 
later.) — Tried to walk to day — I am ver}^ weak. 

August 31st. — I felt so much better that I thought 
I would again write to my wife, and, wishing to say 
.something pleasant to her, \ asked a friend and Miss 
Martin to accompan\' me to Thorburn's establish- 
ment for the sale of rare plants. It was near, and I 
reached there without fatigue. A chair was placed 
for me, and moved as I wished to change my posi- 
tion. Among tlie most beautiful evergreens w^ero 
the India Rubber, with leaves still larger and more 
glossy than the Magnolia Grandiflora— a Cactus 
Triangularis in full bud — one new plant from South 
America, whose leaves, colored by nature, formed a 
handsome flower; and many other plants. I thought 
of my wife, but my recent expenses had l)een so 
great, that 1 dared not purchase. I returned home, 

Letter to his Vestry. 59 

and was able to write pleasantly and satisfactorily 
to her, and also to my friend, Dr. Wilson. 

September ^nd. — God's blessed Sabbath ! I woke 
feeling pretty strong; but my friends thought I ought 
not to go out. I sent Miss Martin to my friend's, Mr. 
Schaeffer's, church, designing to keep my chamber ; 
but I heard one of the tunes sung in m}^ clmrch, 
and mechanically pulled on m}^ coat, took a little 
boy with me, and went into the church, as the minis- 
ter gave out his text. Many pew-doors were thrown 
open to me, and I was able to remain to the end, 
without much fatigue. To-morrow, I design to go 
on a recruiting voyage to New Haven, and other 
parts of New England.* 


New York, xVugust, 1827. 

Gentle^ien : You have n^ doubt, for some weeks 
past, heard many melancholy details of my suffer- 
ings and danger, and I hasten, at the first moment 
of returning strength and health, to inform you of 
the goodness and mercy of God towards me. He 
interposed in my behalf, ^vhen my friends, my 
physicians, and myself, had ceased to hope, and He 
has restored my strength, much sooner than any of 
us contemplated. 

I was hastening down to New York in order 
to sail on the " Niagara," and stopped a night at 
my uncle's, and another at Dr. Quitman's, in 
Rhinebeck. There I felt the first attack of a 
fever, which nearly proved fatal to me. I was fear- 
ful I should be very sick, and made an eff'ort to get 
to New York for medical assistance. That night 
I nearly died in the steamboat, having fainted 

*He did not go to New Haven, but to Newport. 

GO John BacJiman. 

several times. I was carried next morning, almost 
insensible, to a boarding-house, where I am at 
l)resent, on Broadway. After having been cupped, 
the pain in ni}^ head subsided ver\^ much. The 
physician, Dr. Mott, (a kind and skilful man), 
began to think I should only have a mild intermit- 
tent fever, and 1 yet entertained hopes of sailing in 
the " Niagara." It is well, however, that she sailed 
without me ; for, had I taken passage on board that 
ship, I never sliould have reached the land alive. 
After a few days, the fever began to put on a more 
formidable appearance, and to remit no longer. I 
had a burning thirst, and an incessant and violent 
lieadache. I grew every day worse, and my disease 
beginning to put on a typhoid form, the physician 
informed us that, if such should be the case, he 
could no longer be of any assistance. I found, at 
last, that I could no longer see anything before me: 
and as this, among the many sick that I had seen, 
was always a forerunner of death, the conviction 
came over me that my time was now come, and that 
my life, chequered with joy and sorrow, with good 
and ill, was now about to be brought to a close. 
The thought of my dear and interesting family was 
a sore trial to me. But I called to mind the good- 
ness of God to many, under like circumstances, and 
I was comforted by the promise of God, " Leave thy 
fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and 
let thy widows trust in Me." 

I then began to review my own sinful life. I 
found many failings and imperfections for which 
I implored the pardon of God, through the mercy 
of my Saviour. But the review of my life, during 
my ministry, and particularly during the time 
I was with you, gave me satisfaction.. I felt that 
more might have been done, but still I also 
felt that, amid the weaknesses of human nature, 

Ills Illness. 61 

I had endeavored to discharge faithfully that 
great duty of leading the sinner to the cross of 
the Saviour, and directing my fellow-men to the 
paths of virtue, integrity, and religion. Ere I 
had time much further to reflect, a sweet peace, 
a heavenly calm came over my mind, and I 
felt a joy which passeth all understanding. It 
seemed as if some kind angel from heaven had been 
sent on a message of love and mercy, to cheer and 
bless me. About this time, my old friend, Dr. 
Mayer, from Philadelphia, called to see me. I could 
hear, by his voice, that he was much affected, but I 
could not see his countenance, and we parted as for 
the last time in this world. In the meantime, 
another physician had been called in, without my 
knowing it for some days. I was still waiting for the 
determination of tlie Almighty. I had no wish of my 
own. Death to those who are prepared does not 
appear to me to have as many terrors as I once 
thought. Providence seems kindly to blunt the 
arrows of pain, and to extract the sting of death. 
About the fith or sixth day of my blindness, I began, 
one night, to feel an unusnal pain in the back of my 
neck. It seems a blister had then taken effect, and 
the next morning I could see again. I gazed with 
inexpressible delight upon the light of the sun, and 
on the countenances of my friends — and now it ap- 
peared to me that it was the will of God that I 
should again go forth in this busy world to dis- 
charge my duty as a husband, father and a Chris- 
tian minister. From day to day I continued to im- 

My friends had kindly watched around my bed 
in all my sickness — my sister, (Mrs. Dale,) Miss 
Martin, and Miss Cross never left me for many 
nights together. Rev. Mr. Schaeffer was with me 
continually. Mr. Buckley, and Mr. Ralston, (a plan- 

62 John Bachman. 

ter from one of your islands,) sat up with irie almost 
every night; and many other friends were unremit- 
ting in their attentions. I am now so well as to be able 
to sit up in an easy chair, and am able to loiter about 
the room. I know that my vestry and my people 
will join me heartily in praise and thanksgiving 
to Almighty God. He will, in all human proba- 
bility, bring us together again, in health and happi- 
ness. My physicians advised me to travel a little 
into New England to recover my strength, and 
probably I shall, next week try to leave this noisy 
city. ** * * * ' J. B. 

The anxiety in the Charleston home and flock 
had been intense. Fearing the worst; all letters 
were directed to the care of the family physician. Dr. 
Sam'l. Wilson. John Schwartz deputed himself 
receiver of these letters, and drove to the postoffice, 
where he was met by Dr. Wilson. 

In one of his letters to the absent pastor, he de- 
scribes, very graphically, bringing one of these letters 
to Mrs. Bachman — gives the names of the many 
persons who liad assembled to hear the contents — 
tells of the excitement when it was announced that 
there was hope of recover3^ Several attempted to 
read tlie letter aloud, but their voices gave way, 
finally Dr. Wilson announced the cheering news 
to the excited grou}). 

. During the protracted illness of the pastor, John 
Schwartz was requested by the Vestry of St. John's 
to continue his services to the Church. He had 
preached acceptably twice every Sabbath, lectured in 
the week, and visited the sick in the congregation. 

Anxiety of the Congregation. 63 

Thus he endeared himself, more and more, to the 
heart of his father in Ciirist, and to the people of 
St. John's. 


" The cheering intelligence has just reached us that 
you are out of danger. 

" I would not attempt to descrihe my feelings of 
sorrow during the past week, or of joy at the present 
moment. You cannot easily conceive in what an 
awful state of suspense we were placed by the an- 
nouncement of your extreme illness. 

"The tidings reached us on Sunday morning, 26th 
of August. The congregation were assembling, but 
Mrs. Bachman had not readied the church. It was 
decided that it would not do to permit lier to find 
us in such distress ; it was agreed, therefore, that I 
.should dismiss the congregation and communicate 
the intelligence to her, if possible, before she left 
home. From that time until the present, I have 
remained almost constantly with her, endeavoring 
to sustain and cheer her. To add to our distress, 
the mails were continually failing — now we look 
upon it as providential, as the tidings in the letters 
would only have served to extinguish the least 
glimmering of ho[)e. Dr. Wilson, Mr. K. and my- 
:?elf, were always at the Postofhce when the mjiil 
arrived. Through the kindness of Mr. Bacot, the 
Postmaster, we received our mail before the rest 
were assorted lor delivery; with Mrs. B.'s permis- 

()4 John Bachman. 

sioii, we opePxed the letters — as crowds of people 
were anxiously waiting at the door of the office for 
tidings of you. 

" You may conceive the delight I felt last night, 
when I handed Mrs. Bachman down stairs ; she had 
for a week confined herself to her chamber, in a 
state of suspense as distressing as it was awful. 

** Do not let your mind be disturbed about your 
family. I need not assure you that I shall do ever}^ 
thing I can that will tend to their comfort. The 
greatest happiness I enjoy is found in the perform- 
ance of my duty to you and yours — a duty of grati- 
tude whose obligations 1 hope to feel as long as I 
have breath to call you my friend — a duty second 
only to that I owe to my God and my mother. The 
circumstances of our late sorrows have made me 
look upon myself more as a member of your family 
than as your student. And I know that my feelings 
towards Mrs. B. were not inferior to those of an affec- 
tionate son to the fondest of mothers. 

"To every member of your congregation your 
illness lias been an afflictipn, and your recovery a 
blessing. I think that I could die easy and happy, 
if I had such a congregation weeping for me, and 
praying for my welfare. Though all are anxious to 
see you again, yet we can bear your prolonged ab- 
sence more cheerfully, when we reflect that, by it, 
you will return to us with renewed strength and 
vigor. I hope to preach regularly twice on Sundays. 

'' The yellow fever still prevails, and a still more 
fatal fever on the " Neck." I performed the funeral 

A Prayer. 65 

service over Mr. H. — the fifteenth funeral since you 
left me in charge. 

Your grateful friend, 

J. G. S." 

" P. S. — Tour little Harriet says : ' Father got 
better, because I prayed for him." ' 


1827 TO 1833. 

Convalescence and return to Charleston — a homestead 
built— death of his twin daughters — nullification — 
his aged mother — letters. 

New York, September 1st, 1827. 
To Mrs. Baciiman : 

My Dear Wife : " For three weeks my time 
has been passed among doctors, nurses, and books ; 
the latter are welcome now. Soon I shall be ready 
for travel in New England. My doctors came to 
see me together, about live days ago. They were 
delighted to find me so well ; and the consulting 
physician jokingly observed, he would not come 
any more to be laughed at by his patient. They 
feel rejoiced at the idea of having been the instru- 
ments to restore me. They talk of the strength of 
mind, patience, and cheerfulness I evinced through- 
out my sickness. The Rev. Mr. Duff, an Episcopal 
clergyman about my age, was attacked within a few 
days, and died, when I was at the worst; it was 
kept from me till very recently. Thus you see, 
•' one lias been taken and another left." 

Dr. Mott still visits and prescribes foi* me. I 
must have given immense trouble to my landlady 
and friends. 

Home, just now, seems to me like a distant Para- 
dise that 1 cannot reacli ; but [ try to repress the 

.4^ Xeu)poii. 07 

I have to write slowly and imperfectly, it ex- 
liausts ine ; yet I find it hard to stop. 

Tell my children to obey their mother, and to 
think of their absent father, who rejoices on their 
account, that he has risen almost from the grave. 

About their healtli. Sliould they be taken ill, 
send for Dr. Wilson. I have confidence in his 
skill ; his attentions, I know, will be unbounded ; 
and if there is danger he will call in a consulting 
phj^sician. Leave the rest to Providence, and do 
not make yourself unhappy about them. Kiss 
them all for me. J. B. 

Extract of a letter to a friend and neighbor in 
Charleston : 

Newport, R. I., September 5th, 1827. 

My Dear Gordo>' : I arrived in the North in 
liealth and spirits. Found my poor mother a 
cripple for life ; but her general health has im- 
proved. I had a fortnight to spare before I could 
attend to business, and we concluded, suddenly, to 
take a trip to the West and North. Miss Martin is 
an excellent travelling companion, and we picked 
up, at the start, a most delightful party, that made 
a journey of twelve hundred miles most pleasant. 
We travelled sometimes in carriages and sometimes 
in canal boats — sometimes straight forward, and at 
other times out of the way to see a curiosity. 
Sometimes we rested a day, and at other times 
travelled at night. The eye of curiosity was wide 
aAvake. The wonders of nature and art were thrown 
open before us. The western parts of New York 
have recently, with a giant's stride, emerged from a 
wilderness to a garden, and fine towns of brick 
houses, and taverns, and churches, have sprung up 

68 John Bachman. 

like magic, while they are just pulling up tlie green 
stumps in the road. 

I must be brief, for I intend galloi)ing to Niagara, 
and through Canada, and down Lake Champlain. 
I have passed the Hudson, whose shores present 
monuments of the works of God and the beauties 
of nature, that will be admired while taste, and 
feeling, and judgment, remain in the world. The 
canals are proud monuments of art. Erie and 
Ontario, have, by this time, mingled their waters 
in the Great Western Canal. Here boats are sailing 
on the aqueduct above, and passing under the 
arches beneath. At Lockport, you rise by eight 
doul)le locks, sixty -two feet perpendicular : and, on 
the same principle, you might rise to the top of Mt. 
Caucasus. One thousand boats are on the canal. 
In a few years every dollar of the expense will have 
been liquidated. All this world of produce floats 
on to the great capital, where men grow giddy, and 
their hearts proud of their prosperity. 

We went to an Indian village, near Niagara, and 
the chief showed us his drawings — the belt and wam- 
pum and battle axe — sold us one of his books, full of 
fables — we saw an Indian wedding party ; the girls 
went to the village of the groom, reversing our order, 
for she came to fetch him. He will never be a Jerry, 
tell my wife and Mrs. Gordon, till he brings iiis bride 
to Cannonsborough. We stopped for three days to gaze 
at the Falls of Niagara. For two days I looked up in 
stupid wonder, and could not speak. 'Tis folly to 
attempt a description. Let the sceptic just take his 
stand on a rock, on the British side, and look up 
before him and round about, and to the heavens 
above. The great waters of Erie have been con- 
gregated together, pressed into a narrow space, roar- 
ing and foaming angrily to be released, and they 
come with one awful plunge, tumbling down — dowli 

Niagara. ()9 

the dark abyss. The earth trembles, the spray arises 
lip to the heavens, forms itself into clouds, and 
passes away. 

I was led clean under the fells, (the fellow told 
me as far as man could go), the rushing wind and 
spra}^, were awful, and it was dark as midnight. I 
came away under the impression, that among the 
wonders of this Avorld, are the falls of Niagara. We 
passed across Lake Ontario in a sluggish steamboat. 
The lake was dull. Its shores are yet covered with 
trees — the axe of the settler is not heard. One long- 
line of dull shore })resents itself for hundreds of 
miles, and we were glad to enter the charming St. 
Lawrence, with her thousand islands. 

In the meantime, botany had been my amusement 
all through the country. I pulled up every plant in 
Canada that I could lay my hands on, and Miss Martin 
preserved the specimens. I found, to my surprise, the 
Lobelia C'ardinalis growing as far as the 46th degree 
of latitude. The wiiite cedar, which was new to me, 
is about the most splendid tree I have ever seen. 
We passed through groves of them for miles. The 
maple and beech, are still the pride of the western 
forests ; and the elms are the largest and finest I 
have ever seen. The sweetbriar is here indige- 
nous — the whole air in the morning is rendered 
fragrant by it. The wild rose blooms everywhere 
beneath your feet, and the gooseberries hang in 
clusters on the sides of every hill and ditch. In 
Montreal, we had them three inches in circumfer- 

We pursued our way down the St. Lawrence, 
and arriving at the rapids, we all took a boat — about 
fifteen in number. We went merrily down the 
rapids, at one place, nine miles in twenty minutes — 
all was life and glee. The Canadians, a light- 
hearted race, sang, and laughed and jumped. Miss 

70 ' John Bachwan. 

Martin gave us the boat song, just as we were going 
down the rapids; and to tliis day, we look upon the 
passage down the rapids, as the most pleasant in all 
our travels. J. B. 

Boston, 13th Sept. 1827. 
To Mrs. Bachman: 

Since I wrote you, I have been sick again. I im- 
proved at Newport. Then a cold, chilly w4nd, from 
the sea, was too severe for rav poor frame, and I was 
obliged to order a hre. On Sunday night, I had a" 
tremendous shake, and discovered tluxt I liad fever 
and ague again. On JNIonday afternoon, we left 
Newport, in a small steamboat. We had the 
Governor of Rhode Island on board, a social, w^ell 
informed man. He called to show us all that was 
to be seen in Providence: but we had already left 
the place. In the evening, my chills came on in the 
boat. When we reached Providence, there were no 
carriages at the wharf. A stranger kindly went in 
search of a carriage, and at 9 P. M., we rode up to 
the hotel. 

The next mornino:, I took a short walk to o^et a 
glimpse of Providence. A gentleman hailed me. It 
was Mr M., who had helped to nurse me in New 
York, when nearly at my worst — to meet me here, 
so unexpectedly, overwhelmed him with joy. As I 
was crawling along, a gentleman introduced himself 
to me, as Mr. G., a son-in-law^ of Dr. Moser. He 
lent me his arm, and we went slowly through the 
town. This town is the second in New England, 
and has taken away a great part of the trade 
of Newport. It lies at the head of the bay, and 
has seventeen hundred inhabitants. Tell little 
Maria to know all about the geography of this, before 
my return. Here is Brown University. Provi- 

Eye-sight Affected, 71 

dence is a bustling, busy town ; for twenty miles 
around every stream is occupied by cotton factories. 
Immense fortunes have been made by the Quakers ; 
and several flourishing villages, such as Pawtucket, 
have sprung up within a few years. 

I came home, read a little, and lounged about a 
little. In the afternoon, the fever came on two 
hours earlier, and I was more or less delirious all 
night. Poor M. was with me, greatly distressed. 
The}^ prepared to take me again to New York for 
medical advice. On our way to Washington, I took 
tonics, and when we arrived in Boston, at 3. P. M., 
I felt really strong, and this morning, I am almost 
as well as I ever was in my life. These fevers re- 
turn so often, that a man must be continually 
watching the enemy. Do not give yourself the 
least uneasiness about me. Soon all will be well — 
though I may return to you as yellow as a pump- 
kin — but, without the ague, I hope. I wish that 
I could give you a good account of my eyes. The 
optic nerve was affected by high fevers, it seemed to 
happen in a moment, at two different times. From 
this affliction, also, I am slowly recovering. At 
first I had to be led about like a poor, blind man, 
now, I walk the streets by myself, and can read all 
the names on the signs. 

To-da3^ I took a walk with Bishop Bowen. When 
he heard of my illness, he came from Connecticut to 
New York to comfort me ; but I had left on my 
eastern tour when he arrived. His family are with 
him, and have been very attentive to me. The 
Bishop had left his spectacles ; he is feeble and I 
could outwalk him, and out-see him. 

New York, October 1st. 

*' My good sister, Eva, is with me again ; she was 
miserable about me. It was reported that I was 

72 John Bachman. 

dead ; and ni}^ old friend, Dr. Blatchford, rather pre- 
maturely, announced it to his people. Eva did not 
believe it; yet, to be sure that I am alive, she has 
come to see for herself. She says Dr. Blatchford 
evinced much feeling on the occasion." 

A man sometimes may hear what the world 
thinks of him in his lifetime. There were two 
notices written on tlie supposition that I was dead ; 
one by Dr. Weston, and the other by Mrs. Rutledge. 
I have not heard what character they gave me — 
good or bad — perhaps I may as well not hear it. 

I have ventured to write, though I cannot read 
one word that I have written, still I am getting my 
eye-sight back so fast, that, in a week, I hope to read 
as well as to write. 

October 2nd. 
To THE Same : 

I have much to write you, but have only time to 
repeat a verse to you about my stay in Boston : 

" Boston is a daudy place, 

The people are all brothers, 
And when one's got a pumpkin pie, 
He shares it with the others." 

I have much to say to you about the elegant 
houses in the midst of very crooked streets — of South 
Boston — of Charlestown and Cambridge — the Col- 
lege and the noble Churches — the Mall, and the 
State House, and the monument going up on Bunk- 
er's Hill. Of the kindness of the people, I shall 
give you a few anecdotes. I had stepped into the 
reading-room — still half blind — I could not read a 
Avord of the Charleston papers ; I asked a gentleman 
to read me the funeral notices ; he gave me all the 
information I needed, and then took my arm, and 
led me home, and afterwards he inquired after my 
liealth every day. 

Return to Charlesto)i. 73 

Once I was picking my way across an alley, by 
using my cane. A youth passing by, was tripped 
up by my cane. Both of us apologized. I asked 
ihe way to Washington street, and finding that I 
was lost, he deposited liis parcel at a store (he was a 
clerk), passing his father's house, he ran in for a 
moment, and brought me two fine peaches, and then 
conducted me to my hotel — a mile off. 

You write me that I am forbidden to come home 
before a frost. I hope that there is no harm in 
wishing that there may be a " a black frost " to-night, 
from Canada to East Bay, Charleston. J. B. 

Dr. Bachman remained in New York until the 
latter part of November, anxiously awaiting per- 
mission to return to famil}^ and flock. He hailed 
with delight the letter from Charleston, announcing 
a heav}^ freeze — the greatly desired " black frost," 
that removed the anxiety of his friends with regard 
to his return home. He took passage in the next 
boat that sailed from New York to Charleston, and, 
in due time, reached his destination. He was wel- 
comed by family and flock, as one whom death had 
claimed, but the Giver of Life had rescued from the 
grave. In the sanctuary his people heartily united 
with him in praise and thanksgiving to God. The 
pastor could speak to his flock as never before, for, 
during their separation, he had stood face to face 
with the " King of Terrors." He had lain passive 
in the hands of his God, and had realized that the 
Master, who had chosen him for a definite work, 
could yet accomplish all, without his presence and 
services. But, as he stood in the midst of his peo- 

74 John Bachman. 

pie, with a new joy, not unmingled with awe, lie 
realized that God had given him another and a 
deeper consecration to his life-work — a fresh com- 
mission "to lead the sinner to the cross of Christ 
and to direct his fellow-men into the paths of virtue^ 
integrity, and religion." He spoke in ^simple, tender, 
earnest words — '' Now is the accepted time," and 
the Spirit gave its unction to tlie holy services of 
that blessed Sabbath. 

He had regretted, during liis illness, that his^ 
worldly affairs were not well arranged ; now he 
endeavored to plan wisely for the future. 

Before accepting what he had expected to be a 
short vacation, he had given out a contract for the 
building of a comfortable home — his wife desired a 
roof-tree of their own to shelter their large family. 
Alas! before the new house could be finished, the 
twins. Clara and Ellen, not yet two years old, sick- 
ened, and, within a month of each other, died. It 
was with chastened joy that the pastor and liis 
family took possession of their new liome. 

The years 1829, 1830 and 1831 we find were filled 
uj) with work for tlie church, etc., which will be 
alluded to later. 

P^iioM Rev. Pjiilu' F. Mayek. 

l^IIILADELPHIA, Aug. 7th, 1832. 

I was much gratified by your favor of July 4th,. 
handed me by Mr. W., wlio fully confirms your own 
account of your health and comfort, and superadds 
his of your usefulness, etc. 

Nullification. 75 

You have been, I think, unusually blessed by a 
gracious Providence, and I never recollect my 
agency in prompting your removal to Charleston, 
without pleasure and gratitude. May heaven long 
continue thus to favor you and yours I * * * 

The latter part of June, our father and friend, 
Dr. Quitman, was released from protracted infirmi- 
ties, and great sufferings. 

I have reason to be very tliankful for the good 
health of my whole house. * * * * 

We are, now, practically acquainted with the 
cholera, and are far less alarmed than we were six 
weeks since. Here, as in other matters, neglect and 
procrastination produce the greatest danger. Our 
ministers, witli two or three exce2:>tions, are all at 
their posts. 

Most sincerely do I hope that what I agree with 
you, is a much greater evil than cholera, Nullification, 
may be, also, found less frightful, or rather be 
checked and rebuked into comparative harmless- 
ness, by the good sense and patriotism of your 
fellow-citizens. * * * God grant that ere long 
we may have at the head of the General Govern- 
ment a man that will not temporize or truckle from 
policy ; but, whilst employing all necessary means 
of conciliation, will, if possible, arrest treasonable 
designs in the bud. * * * * 

P. F. M. 

During the days of Nullification, John Bachman 
was a pronounced Unionist in politics. When the 
excitement was at its height, the Governor of South 
Carolina appointed a day of " Fasting, Prayer and 
Humiliation," Religious services were held in all 
the churches. Many Nullification sermons were 
preached. A large congregation was assembled in 

76' John Bachman. 

St. John's Church, Charleston. The pastor said to 
one of his students, (Edwin A. Bolles), ''I will not 
disgrace my pulpit by preaching apolitical sermon." 
After the opening services, I shall remain in the 
Chancel and read " Christ's Sermon on the Mount. '^ 
This he did, with great solemnity, and closed the 
services with prayer, a hymn and the benediction. 

To Mrs. Bachman : 

St. Matthew's Parish, Nov. 18th, 1832. 

My Dear Harriet : AVhen I left home, I was not 
aware, that there was a Postoftice near, and that we 
could consequently hear from each other. I find 
that there is an office where letters are, however, 
only received once a week. The mail leaves on 
Tuesday morning, and although this is Sunday 
night, I expect to be so much occupied on to-mor- 
row^, as to be unable to write, I must, therefore, do 
so this evening, and may add a postscript to-morrow. 

We arrived at Bradley's, with great ease, at three 
o'clock, (the day we left), and at Mr. B.'s, at the 
same hour on tlie next day. Found the family all 
at church — six miles off. They had gone to the 
meeting of the Synod, Avhich, by mistake, had been 
appointed a day too soon. We followed on to 
church ; halfway we met the family returning, and 
they insisted on our going back with them, which 
we did. This proved a long journey for our horse^ 
and I was afraid that we might have injured him ; 
but it proved otherwise, and the horse and master^ 
and, I hope, mistress, too, are all well. 

The Synod met on Saturday, (the time appointed), 
all the members were present and in good feeling. 
We accomplished the usual quantity of business. 
On Saturday, and to-day, we had overwhelming 

At Synod. 77 


congregations. Mealy preached first; I succeeded, 
with a pretty long sermon; then the Communion 
followed. After which Mr. Dreher, preached a 
funeral sermon over Rev. Mr. Scheck's youngest 
child, which was buried last week. The following 
is the practice : if no minister is present when 
a person dies, he is buried, the grave is only filled 
up even with the surflice, and it is not hilled up 
until the funeral sermon is preached. This is done, 
as well for a child of a dav old, as for an adult — and 
sometimes not until several months afterwards. I 
was quite pleased with Dreher's sermon ; his text 
was, " The child is not dead, but sleepeth." This 
evening, Hope preached, and afterwards, two of our 
students lectured, and I was agreeably surprised at 
their appearance and talents. The truth is, there 
are now eight or ten young men, who are pursuing 
their studies, that are likely to be a credit to us, and 
I am greatly encouraged — their appearance, their 
modesty, and piety, all please me. 

To-morrow is an eventful day with us, as the plan 
of location for the Seminary will be decided on ; 
Muller and Dreher are the champions for the two 
places. Tliey are staying at the same house with 
me (Holman's), and I have been much amused this 
evening at the sallies of wit that have passed be- 
tween them; among the rest, we induced them to 
let us hear the speeches that they will probably 
make before the Synod. There is no telling how it 
will terminate, as the highest bidder will get it. I 
made my only speech on the subject on Sat- 
urday, and do not intend to speak again, if T can 
help it. 

I cannot tell when you will see me ; we are full 
of business, and I can scarcely get to town till Sat- 
urday. I am anxious t j hear from home ; but shall 

78 Joliu Bach)nan. 


liiive no opportunity. It is one o'clock in the morn- 
ing — so good morning. Love to all. 

Your aftectionate husband, J. ]>. 

F. 8. — Perhaps it was to humble my pride, tliat 
when 1 opened my trunk this morning, I found that 
my best coat was not packed up in it, and, as J luid 
rubbed the parsons, last year, about their " Blue and 
Linsey Woolsey " coats, it was no small mattei' of 
fun to them to see their President coming out in 
the old blue-back — pretty well worn, and tolerably 
woolly from Kunhardt's blankets, which 1 had 
wrapped around me on my journey to keep off the 
cold. However, as it was. there was something ven- 
erable in it : the cuffs and the lining, at least, were 
new. Besides I have heard of those of my cloth 
Avho were in a worse fix than I was in to-day. Can 
you laugh off mortifications ? My paper is full. 

Monday. The Seminary will be located at Lex- 
ington. .J. B. 

At the close of this year (1832) his beloved and 
only sister, Eva Dale, was removed by the hand of 
death. The loss of her only daughter severed the 
strong link that bound Mrs. Jacob Bachman to Lan- 
.singburg. She willingh^ therefore, acceded to the 
wish of her son that she should pass the rest of her 
days under his roof, and in the spring of lS?>o, he 
went North to l)ring her to his home. 

Lansingbukg, May 27th, 18o3. 

To Mrs. Bachman: I have written to you every 
thing that I could recollect, and that I thought 
might interest you ; but a man can always find some- 
thing to talk about with his friends — and a husband 

Ills Mother. 79 

can never feel alone, whilst he is conversing with 
his Avife — for writing is conversation. 

I am quite well ; have enjoyed mA'self about as 
much as a man can be expected to do, who is very 
fond of domestic life, and who, after a very few days 
from home, finds the world a busy, bustling scene, 
in which he feels no interest, sufficient to cause him 
to wish a longer absence. 

I have done what I had to do, and I have attend- 
ed to my and my mother's affairs, as far as I could. 
I am packing up all that I think will be useful to 
her. We leave liere to-morrow for New York, and 
sail in the steamship for Charleston, on Saturday 

The parting with her early friends will be hard 
to my mother; but she wishes to come to us — besides, 
she wants the comforts of religion. I am quite de- 
lighted with Dale's children, their attention to their 
grandmother merits the esteem of every one. 

Little Harriet is so great a likeness to our Harriet 
that I sometimes forget myself, and almost imagine 
that I have my daughter before me. There are 
many inquiries about you, and sister Maria, and I 
think, that you would enjoy very much another 
visit here. 

Two days ago I visited the Bald Mountains — cer- 
tainly among the most splendid views that ever I 
beheld. Albany, Troy, Lansingburg and Water- 
ford, were so near that it seemed as if I could throw 
a pebble into either of them — the beautiful Hudson 
and Mohawk rivers were flowing gently by, as if at 
my very feet. They were covered with boats and 
bridges, a dozen villages and a hundred farms, were 
in my eye at the same moment. The hills and 
valleys, were covered with green pastures and nu- 
merous flocks ; the sounds of busy industry and the 
music of a thousand warblers that chanted around 

80 Jolvii Bachnan. 

nie, were borne on the air filled with the fragrance 
of flowers. Suffice it to say, that although it was a 
sight that angels might look on with pleasure, yet I 
would haye exchanged it all for one glimpse of my 

Dear Harriet, you will not hear from me again 
till we meet. Loye to Sister Maria, the children 
and friends. J. B. 

The roof-tree, at this date, sheltered a family of 
fourteen, consisting of the parents and their nine 
children, the pastor's own mother, and his wife's 
mother and sister. Mrs. Jacob Martin, and her gifted 
daughter, Maria Martin. 

In order that his mother, lame from a fall, should 
be able to join the family circle, he had a room near 
the dining room enlarged for her chamber. Soothed 
and cheered by the tender ministrations of her son 
and his family, she liyed on for many years in 
placid content — attaining beyond the allotted four 
score years. 


1823 — 1835. 

The synod and the theological seminary — early history 
of the lutheran congregations at ebenezer and s vvan- 


of the south carolina synod — theological seminary at 
tennessee — seminary in south carolina — rev. john g. 
schwartz — ernest hazelius, d. d. — the charleston church 
prospers- letter from s. s. schmucker, d. d. — degree of 
doctor of divinity conferred on the pastor of st. 

DURING the period of American colonization, the 
spirit of adventure and the promise of rich gain 
hired numbers from the over-crowded population of 
Europe, to the shores of the newly discovered AVest- 
ern Continent. But the fires of religious persecution 
brought to the colonies a noble class of emigrants ; 
those who sought, above all, " freedom to worship 
God.'^ " The war of the Spanish Succession '' was 
instrumental in furnishing settlers for tlie English 
Colonies. The Edict of Nantes had been revoked by 
the brilliant yet cruel Louis XIV. of France. Garden 
spots on the banks of the Rhine, the peaceful and 
prosperous homes of the Protestants in Alsace and 
the Palatinate had been laid waste. Tiie refugees 
sought an asylum in friendly countries. God moved 

82 Join I Bachrnan. 

witli pity the lieart of a woman — the good Queen 
Anne of England invited the poor Palatinates to 
her hospitable shores. She treated them with un- 
bounded kindness, and, hoping to be able still bet- 
ter to provide for so large a number, induced them 
to migrate to America — the land, that promised 
work, bread and religious freedom for all. Many of 
them settled on the Hudson river in the province 
of New York ; some in Newberne, North Carolina ; 
others in Soutli Carolina, principall}^ in Charleston 
and along the banks of the Congaree, Saluda and 
Broad rivers. They can also be traced on the Savan- 
jiah river, Georgia. 

The benevolent Queen, generously provided the 
impoverished immigrants with means to build com- 
fortable homes, and furnished them with extensive 
grants of lands for glebes, pastorates and schools. 
They clung to the Augsburg Confession, to Luther's 
Catechism, and to their Bibles with the Sacraments, 
for they had brought with them the faith that 
had stood the test of persecution and martyrdom. 
Their industry, morality and unswerving faith con- 
stituted them elements of strength in the new colo- 

(^ueen Annie had given them what was then 
called " The Saxe Gotha Tract," on the banks of the 
Congaree river. Unhappily, from sickness and tlio 
hardships and poverty incident to a life in a new 
colony, the pastorates and school tracts were scarcely 
occupied, and this .source of wealth was finally lost 
to the Lutheran Church. 

The Sahburgers. 83 

Leopold, Catliolic Archbishop of Salzburg, was 
also instrumental in bringing valuable accessions 
of German settlers to America. Driven by fierce 
cruelty from the Noric Alps in Bavaria, the Salz- 
burgers gladly emigrated to America. The sympa- 
thies of all Protestant lands were aroused. The 
historian, Bancroft, writes, " A noble army of mar- 
tyrs going forth in the strength of God, marshalled 
under no banners, save that of the Cross and pre- 
ceded by no leaders, save their spiritual teachers 
and the great Captain of their salvation." All 
Protestant Europe bade them Godspeed. 

The Salzburgers reached America in 1734. Be- 
fore the Revolutionary war, they had built two 
churches in Georgia, one at Ebenezer and the other 
at Savannah. 

In 1823, the Pastor of St. John's, received leave of 
absence from his Church to visit these places, and 
learn if the congregations still existed. He found 
that the small building then erected, had been se- 
questered. (In 1797, the Church at Savannah had 
been destroyed by fire. On that occasion, St. John's 
Church, Charleston, contributed |oOO towards re- 
building it.) 

Rev. Dr. Bernheim writes, * '' Dr. Bachman's 
visit to Savannah was not one moment too soon. 
By means of his well directed and energetic labors, 
a congregation was organized, and Rev. S. A. Mealy, 
who had received his theological training from Dr. 

*German Settlements in the Carolinas, by G. D. Bern- 
heim, D.D. 

84 John Bachman, 

Bachman, became its Pastor. From that time the 
Lutheran Congregation in Savannah began to pros- 

" Having completed liis kibors in Savannah, he 
extended his visit to Ebenezer, for he had learned 
that though a Lutheran congregation still existed 
in that place, its aged pastor (Rev. John E. Berg- 
man) was fast sinking into the grave." Mr. Berg- 
man was a learned and exemplar}^ German minister. 
His son (Rev. Christopher F.) had received a clas- 
sical education, and had studied for the ministry 
under his lather ; but, not being aware that Luth- 
eran ism had an existence in the South, he had 
taken a license to preach under the auspices of 
another denomination. ''This was the source of the 
most unfeigned regret, both to his father and his 
father's congregation." 

" The discerning mind of Dr. Bachman soon 
penetrated the difticulty under which the younger 
Bergman labored, and he was made the instrument, 
in the hands of God, of giving a new direction to 
Rev. C. F. Bergman's theological views, thus secur- 
ing his services to the Lutheran Church, and cheer- 
ing the last hours of a venerable servant of Jesus 

One of the difficulties alluded to is explained by 
the Patriarch Lutheran Missionar}^, H. M. Muhlen- 
berg, in his *' Journal." " Rev. J. E. Bergman was 
averse to the introduction of the English language 
in the public services, though the spiritual interests 
of younger generations demanded the change." 

The Synod of South Carolina. 85 

Referring to this period, Dr. Bachiimn wrote : 
" The establishment of our church in the South, was 
a source of greater anxiety to my mind than even 
the prosperity of my own congregation. I came as 
a pioneer in our holy cause. There was but a single 
Lutheran Synod in the Southern States — that of 
North Carolina, which had recently been organized, 
and we had no theological school." 

The next year (1824), it was proi)osed that a 
Synod should be formed in South Carolina ; the 
Pastor of St. John's hailed the prospect with enthu- 
siasm. He was not present at the preliminary meet- 
ing; but, at its first convention, he transferred his 
membership from the Synod of New York to that 
of South Carolina. It was his privilege, at this 
meeting, to assist at the ordination of Christopher F. 

In 1817, Revs. Philip Henkel and Joseph Bell, 
undertook to establish a Classical and Theological 
Seminary, in Green County, Tenn. The Tennessee 
Synod, at its meeting (1818), in view of the great 
need of such an institution, expressed its satisfac- 
tion, and promised its fostering care. " A letter," 
say the minutes of that year, " was also read, from 
Rev. John Bachman, pastor in Charleston, S. C, in 
which he expressed his great desire that a Seminary 
for the education of Ministers should be established, 
and assured us that his congregation would gladly 
contribute towards the support of the enterprise." 
This pledge was fulfilled. The minutes of the Ten- 
nessee Synod for 1819 record " $221.75 — a contribu- 

86 John Bacliman. 

tion t<j the Seminary from Kev. J. Bachmaii's con- 

United action of the church, liowever, was lack- 
ing. From this cause, the institution was short- 
lived, and in 1820, Ave hear nothing more of the 
Seminary in Tennessee. 

The pastor of St. John s had sought with frateriial 
s[)irit to foster an institution begun in another 
State ; its failure kindled in his heart a deeper 
longing and more determined purpose, that, at no 
distant day, by the blessing of God, a Seminary 
should be founded at the South on a firmer basis. 

November, 1827, the Synod of South Carolina met 
in St. John's Church, Charleston. On that occasion? 
the l)eloved young Scliwartz, gave a report of a 
missionary tour he had made through the middle 
and upper districts of South Carolina. His re])ort 
made a profound impression upon the Synod, and 
stirred the heart of his father in Christ, who wrote, 

" John Schwartz brought to us a far more correct 
account of tlie state and wants of the countr}', than 
any we had before received ; and he has thus, enabled 
us to see the necessity of renew^ed exertions to i)ro- 
cure ministers, and to encourage our brethren in the 
interior to build churches and to organize themselves 
into congregations." 

In 1829, Rev. William D. Strobel, (his former stu- 
dent), returned from New York to Charleston, and 
immediately joined Mr. Schwartz in his missionary 
work, and their zealous labors were greatly blest. 

The necessitv for the establishmentof a Theolooi- 

The Theologicctl Seminary. 87 

cal Seminar}' in tlie South became every day tlie 
more apparent. The failure of the Theological 
Seminary attempted in Tennessee, although it did 
not daunt his brave soul, yet warned him that 
united counsel, energy and effort, were absolutely 
necessary for success. When the vSynod met in 
Savannah, Ga., Nov. 1829, we find him offering 
sundry resolutions looking towards the establish- 
ment of a Theological Seminary. Initiatory stej)s 
Avere immediately taken to carry out these reso- 

In 1830, as president of the Synod, he again 
warml}' pressed this subject u})()n the attention of 
his brethren in the ministry. 

" I come now to recommend, with all tire earnest- 
ness I am capable of, and to implore Almighty God 
for his blessing on our humble exertions, to institute 
and support a T/ieological Seminarij. Hitherto I liave 
liad many anxieties on this subject, and great doubts 
of our success. * ""''' But Providence seems to have re- 
moved the greatest obstacles to our establishment of 
such an institution. Our people have become 
united and zealous. '•' * '^'' Tiiis united zeal and 
perseverance will, we contidenlly liope, enable us at 
tlie next meeting of our Synod, to report that ten 
thousand dollars have been pledged — a sum 
sufficient to enable our institutions to go into suc- 
cessful operation ; and, although it would have but 
an humble origin ; yet, fostered by our liberality, 
our watchfulness, and our sincere and fervent 
prayers, Ave may, under the blessing of heaA^en, look 
forward to a long train of signal blessings upon our 

(The amount Avas subscribed). He continues, 

88 John Bachman. 

" It was necessary that a professor to the in- 
stitution should be elected, and that he should 
enter at once upon the discharge of his duties. 
Every eye among the clergy and laity, was imme- 
diately directed to Mr. Schwartz. He received a 
unanimous vote as professor of theology. For a 
time, his feelings almost prevented the power of 
utterance. At length, he proceeded to thank us for 
our favorable opinion ; stated his sense of his in- 
capacity to discharge the duties of the position to 
which he had been appointed ; pointed out its 
difficulties; but signified his willingness to under- 
take it, by the help of God, and entreated our 
prayers and intercessions. The youth of the indi- 
vidual, the occasion, the importance of the subject, 
and his eloqueni address, melted the whole audience 
into tears. 

" Unwilling to resign the charge of several con- 
gregations in Newberry, until the year had expired, 
at the suggestion of the Synod, he concluded to 
secure a house sufficiently large to enable him to 
receive theological students in his home, until the 
permanent location of the Theological Seminary." 

February, 1831, the Theological Seminary opened 
with flattering prospects. Professor Schwartz soon 
expressed his fears that if many more came, they 
could not be accommodated. 

" John Bachman," says one, " was the ruling 
spirit of the Synod ; for eight consecutive years, he 
was elected president, and wisely guided the coun- 
sels of that body." 

His ardent desires and bright hopes for the 
establishment of the Church of the Reformation 
in the South seemed now about to be realized. 

John G. Schwartz. 89 

Rev. S. A. Mealy reported to his spiritual father 
that the church in Savannah was prospering. 

Tidings came from the congregation at Ebenezer, 
Ga., that their much loved pastor, C. F. Bergman, 
was doing a great work in their midst. 

Mt. Calvary Church, Edgefield District, St. Paul's 
Church, Newberry, and the Church in Columbia, 
had all recently been erected and dedicated. 

Dark clouds were, however, rising to cast their 
shadows over this bright prospect. 

The following summer, (1831), Professor Schwartz' 
letters tell of failing health. Suddenly he was 
attacked with a violent fever, which at first appa- 
rently yielded to the physicians treatment, but soon 
returned, with increased violence. Human skill 
brought no relief, and on the 26th of August, 1831, 
at the age of twenty-four, the life and labors of this 
young servant of Christ were closed on earth. His 
spiritual father wept and prayed while he lingered 
on the confines of earth, and when the spirit had 
ascended to God, it was he who preached the funeral 
discourse that embalmed the memory of the gifts, 
the virtues, and the attainments of the beloved 

Standing at the grave of Schwartz, the tidings 
reached him from Ebenezer, that another of his 
spiritual sons, Rev. Christopher F. Bergman had 
been smitten, and was dead. Revs. Jacob Wingard 
and Daniel Dreher, all young ministers of great 
promise, were, in rapid succession, called from the 
Church militant to the Church triumphant. In 

90 Joliu Bacltman. 

view of these sad afflictions, as President of Synod, 
he thus addressed and encouraged his brethren. 

"Let our past afflictions teach us humility, an 
increase of zeal, and an humble trust and confidence 
in the protection and mercy of God ; and, as the hour 
of night is darkest which precedes the rising morn, 
and, as the day is often calmest which succeeds the 
violence of the tempest, so these visitations of 
heaven, like the calamities that befell the church of 
old, may be followed by a long train of mercies and 
blessings to our beloved Zion. But. while we rely 
for luture successes and prosperity on the blessing 
of heaven, let us do all that lies in our power to 
promote her best interests." 

As he stood in the breach speaking words of ho})e 
and cheer, the question was asked him: Where can 
we find another to fill the vacancy caused by the 
death of John Schwartz? His reply was cliaracter- 
istic. "AYhile we are endeavoi'ing to find a suitable 
Theological Professor, let us hasten the completion 
of the dwelling-house begun for his use, and the re- 
citation rooms for the students. '' He labored, zeal- 
ously and sucessfuUy, to procure funds for the same, 
and, in a short time, the new buildings were ready 
for use. 

As President of Synod, he wrote to his friend, Rev. 
Dr. Ernest Hazelius, a member of the Synod of New 
York, witli reference to the Professorship. Dr. 
Hazelius was at that time one of the Professors at 
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania ; his answer was favora- 
ble. With delight, the former wrote "Dr. Hazelius 

Dr. Hazdlus. 91 

has lent a willing ear to the call of the Board of 
Directors, and will he with us in Novemher next." 

Dr. Hazelius was a native of Silesia, in the king- 
dom of Prussia, and a graduate from a Moravian 
Theological Seminary in that kingdom. In 1809, 
he had united himself with the Lutheran Cliurch, 
and in 1815, was elected Theological Professor at 
Hartwick Seminary, N. Y. After fifteen years of 
efficient service, he accepted a Professorship at Get- 
tysburg Seminary, Penn. In November, 1833, he 
arrived in Charleston, on his way to Lexington, S. C. 

He lingered a few days in the home of the Pastor 
of St. John's. As they took counsel together with 
regard to the Master's work in a field of labor new 
to the Professor of Theology, the hearts of the two 
were knit together. The gentle, learned, spiritual, 
but timid and retiring Hazelius turned confid- 
ingly to his friend, whose self-reliant nature and 
buoyant temperament, seemed just the complement 
necessary for success, in building up the waste 
places in the Lutheran Church, South. They cor- 
responded and cxclianged visits for nearly twenty 
years, until the death of Dr. Hazelius, which oc- 
curred in 1852. 

It is pleasant to dwell upon a friendship so sweet 
and pure, founded upon mutual confidence and re- 

In 1834, 1835, 1836. we find a voluminous, almost 
overwhelming, correspondence on church matters. 
Although the Synod of South Carolina and adjacent 
States had greatly prospered, yet serious difficulties 

92 Jolin Bachman. 

within its bounds, in St. Peter's and other churches, 
gave its President (John Bachman) deep concern 
and sore anxiety. It was not until 1837 that these 
were disposed of, and then only to a certain extent. 
This, of course, retarded the growth and develop- 
ment of certain congregations. In his own con- 
gregation, harmony and zeal prevailed, and con- 
sequently, prosperity. " Its praise was in all tlie 
churches." Year by year it had been more thor- 
oughly organized. The Alms-Fund, founded as 
early as 1816, had, by this time, greatly increased : 
and societies of active men and women had been in- 
augurated, in 1825 and 1828, for the promotion of 
religion, and the education of young men for the 

The membership of St. John's was composed of 
men of wealth, culture, and position, as well as the 
poor and humble. They seemed to have been 
almost of one mind, — " The head did not say to the 
foot, I have no need of thee." There was a large 
colored element — about two hundred negroes. Ap- 
parently, the pastor had little difficulty in harmo- 
nizing these varied elements in his congregation. 

In 1835, Pennsylvania College conferred upon 
him, the degree of Doctor of Divinity. 

The certificate of the same was accompanied by a 
letter from his honored friend, S. S. Schmucker, D. 
D., which runs thus : 

"In conformity with a resolution of the Board of 
Trustees of Pennsvlvania College, it is my pleasing- 
duty to inform you that the honorary degree of 

President of the General Synod. 93 

Doctor of Divinity was conferred upon you in con- 
sideration of your literary and scientific attainments, 
and 3'our zeal and activity in advancing the cause 
of virtue and religion. 

'' The duty of making this communication has 
been assigned to me, as I had the pleasure to origi- 
nate the resolution. It afforded me no ordinary 
gratification thus to evince the high personal regard 
and friendship which I entertain for you. 

" Having thus discharged my official duty, let me 
repeat my regret, that I was unable to reach Gettys- 
burg in time to meet you there. I was anxious to 
converse largely with you on many topics of interest 
to our Zion ; and even supposed that our com- 
munion on these subjects might be of future use to 
the church. ' S. S. S." 

The South Carolina Synod, in 1833, had united 
with the General Synod, North. The Pastor of St. 
John's was elected President of this bodv in, 1835, 


1 831 AND 1832. 


"T^ROM my earliest boyhood," said the subject of 
Ji this memoir, " I had aii irrepressible desire for 
the study of Natural History. At the age of fourteen, 
I had made an extensive collection of plants, birds 
and quadrupeds of my native State. I was intimate 
with Alexander Wilson, the pioneer of American 
Ornithology, and furnished him with the rare birds 
existing in the Northern parts of New York. In 
Carolina, I was enabled to compare the native pro- 
ductions of a Southern climate with those of the 
State of my nativity.' ' 

Now he was to become i)ersonally acquainted 
with Audubon, the Ornithologist. They had, per- 
haps, corresponded, but did not meet until the Fall 
of 1831. 

AVe find from the following letter, to Mrs. John J. 
Audubon, the wife of the naturalist, that Audubon, 
accompanied by Mr. Lehman a landscape painter 
and Mr. Ward a taxidermist, had spent a month un- 
der his roof. This visit was a beginning of a firm 
friendship between two scientists, both humble 
seekeis after truth, both close students of nature. 

Audubon's grateful and constant allusions, in his 

A Happy Month. 95 

published works, to tlie assistance rendered him by 
" my friend John Bachman," and Bachman's noble 
defence of Audubon when unjustly assailed as a 
naturalist, form a beautiful commentary on disin- 
terested friendsliip. 

To Mrs. J. J. Audui50x : 

Charleston, 15th November, 1831. 

Dear Madam — I comply with a request of your 
kind and worth}^ husband, who laid an injunction 
on me this morning, that I should w^ite to you. He, 
together with Mr. Lehman and Henry Ward, left 
this place this morning, in the schooner " Agnes," 
for St, Augustine. They were all in good health 
and spirits, and enthusiastically bent on the accom- 
plishment of the object of their expedition to the 
fullest extent. 

The last has been one of the happiest months of 
my life. I was an enthusiastic admirer of nature 
from my boyhood, and fond of every branch of 
Natural History. Ornithology is, as a science, pur- 
sued by very few persons — and by no one in this 
city. How gratifying was it, then, to become ac- 
quainted with a man, who knew more about birds 
than any man now living — and who, at the same 
time, was communicative, intelligent, and amiable, 
to an extent seldom found associated in the same 
individual. He has convinced me that I w^as but a 
novice in the study ; and besides receiving many 
lessons from him in Ornithology, he has taught me 
how much can be accomplished by a single individ- 
ual, who will unite enthusiasm with industry. For 
the short month he remained with my family, we 
were inseparable. We were engaged in talking 
about Ornithology — in collecting birds — in seeing 

90 John Bachman. 

them prepared, and in laying plans for the accom- 
plishment of that great work which he has under- 
taken. Time passed rapidly away, and it seems but 
as yesterday since we met, and now, alas ! he is al- 
ready separated from me — and in all human proba- 
bility we shall never meet again. 

I am well aware of all the difficulties your hus 
band will have to encounter in a wild and, in some 
respects, an unexplored country. He purposes trav- 
ersing the swamps of Florida — the wilds of Mis- 
souri — the snows of the Rocky Mountains — and, if 
possible, to reach the Pacific, He will have to en- 
counter not only the climate, but the animals — the 
savages — the parched deserts of the Southwest — and 
the snows of the North. But I depend much on his 
hardy constitution, on his knowledge of the coun- 
tries through wdiich he has to pass, and on his admi- 
rable tact in avoiding and extricating himself from 
difficulties. But, above all, I have a firm reliance 
on the goodness of Providence that he will spare 
his useful life, and enable him to answer the high 
expectations of his friends and his country. 

Mr. Audubon has promised frequently to write to 
me, and I shall feel as much interested in all of his 
movements, as if he were a brother, or the dearest 
friend I have on earth. 

I need not inform you that Mr. Audubon was a 
general favorite in our city. His gentlemanly de- 
portment, his travels and experience, his informa- 
tion and general talents, caused him to be sought 
after by all. But your husband knew that the great 
objects before him required his unremitted atten- 
tion, and he was obliged to deny himself to his 
friends, on many occasions, and devoted to them 
only his evenings. 

There seems quite a blank, in my house, since he 
Jias gone, for we looked on him as one of our family. 

Auduhon. 97 

He taught my sister, Maria, to draw birds ; and 
she has now such a passion for it, that, whilst I 
am writing, she is drawing a Bittern, put up for her 
at daylight by Mr. Audubon. 

I hope that Charleston may be able to give a few 
subscribers to your husband's work, and I wish that 
she was richer, and had taste, and a knowledge of 
Natural History, to encourage her to do more. 

I shall always be glad to hear from one so inti- 
mately associated with my friend, and, with the best 
wishes for his and your prosperity and happiness, 
I beg leave to subscribe myself, 

Yours, in great sincerity, 

John Bachman, 

To Audubon : 

Charleston, Dec. 2d, 1831. 

This moment your kind and interesting letter has 
arrived. The sails are just hoisted and in a few 
moments the vessel is expected to be under way. I 
have run into Mr. K.'s counting house, just to sa}' 
that we are all well. 

I wish that you could have staid with us a month 
longer ; you were scarcely gone, before the birds 
came from the North, and invitations to you from 
the planters on all sides for the country. I am sure 
that we would have kept you, Lehman and Mr. 
Ward all busy. And with the exception of fish, we 
would have fed you as well here, as at St. Augustine. 
All ni}^ family talk of you every day — you are still 
the burden of their song. ***** 

I hope that you will find a new ''Stone Curlew," 
and a Corvus (crow). Indeed, I seriously calculate on 
your making discoveries. Many inquiries are made 
about you every day. Dr. Porcher writes, "I see little 
of Audubon, he lives in the woods." I am in luck. 

98 John Bacliman. 

friend, since I wrote you, another pair of wild tur- 
keys have been sent me. * * * Do examine into- 
the Migration of Birds — do any birds remain in your 
part of Florida, that are not found here? I rather 
fear, that with the exception of "Water Birds," you 
you will do little before spring. * * * * "^ 

I have gone carefully over my (3rnithology, and 
have perfected myself in the Fringillas, and, I think 
that you will not catch me napping on that point — . 
Would that I knew the Sylvias as well. However, 
. the Spring will do wonders, and we will astonish 
you with new specimens. You see how I have 
rambled on * * * "" What about that rattle- 
snake ? In Daughty's little work, a scribbler says, 
**I am afraid of Audubon since the rattlesnake story." 
I long to read a review of your Ijook in the "Phila- 
delphia Quarterly." 

They will not wait a moment longer for me, so 
dear Audubon, farewell. 

Your friend, J. B. 

The scribbler proved to be Ord, the naturalist, 
quoting from Waterton, of England. 

Bachman, in his *' Defence of Audubon," (Bucks 
County Intelligencer, 1835,) writes, 

"Audubon has been rudely assailed about a "snake 
story," but Waterton has given us several stories that 
fairly fill us with Avonder and dismay. Instead of a 
contemptible rattlesnake, as thick as a man's arm, he 
tells us of the great "Boa" which he encountered in his 
den. Dashing forward headlong upon the Boa, lie 
pierced him with his lance, and tying up his mouth 
carried him as a trophy to tlie British Museum, 
The snake was so large that it took three men to 
carry it, and so heavy that they had to rest ten 

Snake Stories. 99 

" He gives another snake story — a snake ten feet 
long. Waterton was alone. He seized him by the 
tail, the snake turned round and came after him 
with open mouth, seeming to say. ' Wliat business 
liave you to meddle with my tail.' In this emer- 
gency, he put his fist in his hat, and rammed it 
down the snake's throat. Suffering the snake to 
Avind itself around his body, he walked home in 
triumph. * =i^ * j .^j^^ somewhat indifferent 
Avith regard to Mr. Waterton and his marvelous 
book ; but it is well for the public to know who this 
champion of truth is, that comes to accuse the 
American Ornithologist of exaggeration." 

TO Audubon at St. Augustine, Florida. 

Charleston, Dec. 23rd, 1831. 

My dear Audubon : I returned from the country 
last evening, and concluded to devote this day to 
rest and amusement, and leave letter-writing and 
serious studies to another time, but my good wife, 
and sister Maria, beg me to answer you immediately, 
and as this accords with my inclination, I have con- 
eluded to devote an hour or two in writing to you — 
a brother ornithologist. Indeed, when I heard, 
Avhilst in Columbia, that a letter from you had 
arrived, I felt desirous of hastening my return. 

My tour of duty, (Synodical), this year, is over. 
Everything has gone on well with me — except that 
we lost a fine horse on the last journey ; and the 
€old killed my wild turkeys. Indeed, it has been 
almost insupportably cold. I had not time to carry 
a gun, and on the whole, would not have had much 
use for it, as the birds were scarce, and it would 
have interfered Avith my professional duties. Hares 
were rather abundant. I saw a '' Red Tailed," and a 

100 Jolin Bachman. 

" Sparrow Hawk," for some time, seated on the same 
oak — presently the latter made a dash among some 
snow birds, and as he was flying away with one, no 
doubt delighted with the anticipated feast, the Red 
Tailed took after him, and made him drop the 
dainty bit, and caught it before it fell to the ground. 
I found the Solitary and Brown Thrushes, about five 
of the Wood Pecker family, the Robin, the Ruby- 
crowned wren, and some of the duck family abun- 
dant; but there was nothing new — nothing even 
rare, except a Duck, nearly white, which puz- 
zled me ; but as the guns in the house where 
I was staying happened to be in an awful 
state, I was admonished not to run the risk of my 
life in discharging them. This duck may be de- 
scribed ; but I do not recollect anything that looks 
like it in Wilson. 

I arrived in Columbia, S. C, almost too late, for 
the " House " had just resolved that the State was 
too poor to subscribe for Audubon's work. I felt 
that it would be a disgrace to the State ; and, for 
the first time in my life, I turned to electioneering. 
And now, behold me among the back countrymen, 
spinning long yarns. The thing, however, took, 
and your book is subscribed for. In addition to 
this, a party from the interior, has given his name, 
and Professor Gibbes has hopes that our plan of 
twelve subscribers for a copy, will secure another set 
for Columbia. I can, at least, say our prospects are 
brightening ; but I dare not be too sanguine, as I 
do not want to promise more than I can perform. 
I have written to G., of Savannah, to interest him 
in procuring subscribers, and when your book 
arrives will send a copy to him. * =;= * 

I read what was said in your favor with regard to 
the " Rattlesnake Story," and thus iiir, they have 
not found a wrong twist in your yarn ; but be care- 

Audubon's " Birds:' 101 

fill in describing the wonders of the South and 

West ***>!<*:}; 

My wife begs me to thank you for your kind letter 
which arrived to-day, and she has just given me a 
little paper of messages, which I am to copy and 
send to you. 

Look here, my friend, before I forget it, why are you 
always talking of " a load of gratitude" — now sup- 
pose we say no more about this. Your visit to me 
gave me new life, induced me to go carefullv over 
my favorite study, and made me and my family 
happy. We have, therefore, been mutually obliged 
and gratified. My wife, sister Maria, and the child- 
ren, all beg to be remembered. Tell Henry Ward, 
that I will never make an attempt at painting, but 
that I am beginning to stuff birds, and my man, 
Thomas, during my absence, has done the same. 
My sister Maria, paints birds better every day ; she 
fails only in setting them up. Your 600/;,* however, 
will soon be here, and she will study the attitudes 
of your birds. She is all enthusiasm, and I need 
not say to you that she is one of your warmest 
admirers, and, were she not so closely allied to my 
family, I would say, that the admiration of such a 
person is a very high encomium. * '^ * 

Am I not a bore to send you such a long letter to a 

*The book alluded to is the First Volume of " Audubon's 
Birds of America." This valuable gift, bound in fine 
Russian leather, is still in the possession of the Bachman 
family. It was the first impression struck from the copper- 
plates, and is peculiarly clear-cut. It was Audubon's travel- 
ling companion through England and France, when George 
IV, and Charles X, placed their names at the head of his 
subscription list, on which occasion, Cuvier, pronounced 
Audubon's drawings, " the most splendid monument 
Avhich art had yet erected in honor of ornithology." It 
was no wonder that the admiration of appreciative friends 
kindled into enthusiasm. 

102 JoJm BacJiman. 

tropical climate? I have only room to subscribe 
myself, Your friend, J. B. 

Charleston. Oct. 20tli, 1832. 
Dear Audubox : This moment yours of the 20th 
inst. has come to hand, and I hasten to answer 
it. The l)ook for the South Carolina College, 
is on board of the vessel at quarantine, and 
shall be attended to. My sister Maria, has made 
several drawings, which she thinks of sending you ; 
but I am anxious to retain them for awhile, in hopes 
that you may be tempted to come for them yourself. 
Ever since you left us, I have been studying up my 
Ornithology, in order to be useful to you, and, if 1 am 
spared, I hope to be so. A month in your society 
would afford me a greater treat than the highest 
prize in a lottery. I cannot, I find, feel myself at 
home with new birds without having the skins to 
refer to. My cabinet is enlarging every day. Henry 
Ward now prepares the skins — a pair of each. * * * I 
am afraid that our Northern Sylvias do not })ass near 
our sea-coast ; I rather think that they follow the 
mountains ; the " Henslow's Bunting " is not rare 
here ; I killed three yesterday, and saw, at least, a 
lialf dozen. I shall, next week, write all I know 
about the Frlngilla I found last spring, [f you 
liave received my last letter, you will perceive 
that another new Fringilla has been discovered. 
T sliot it a few weeks ago, and have a skin for you. 
Maria ujade a correct drawing of it. I thought 
at first that it might be the long sought after '' Frin- 
<l'dla Oanennita,'' of Latham, which Nuttall noticed, 
and which Wilson says does not exist : but which I 
ho]:>e to find. "*' * * Your Cranes are elegant, but I wish 
them in the Zoological Garden, as they commenced 
chasing the children, and I have found it necessary 
to have them confined. * * "^ What ducks, that are not 

Friendlu Counsel. 10^ 

likely to be obtained for you in Boston, would you 
like Maria to draw for you ? Your second volume 
promises to be an improvement upon the first. The 
Brown Thrushes are superior to any thing I ever 
saw in the shape of birds — but you do not stand in 
need of my praise ! 

Write and tell me whether you ever expect to 
come to Charleston again — that is, are you coming- 
next spring ? if not, I fear tliat I shall never see you 

It is becoming quite dark, and I suspect that 3^ou 
will be glad to find me coming to a close. 

Your friend, J. B. 

To AuDUBox, at Boston. 

Charleston, Oct. 2Gth, 1832. 
My dear friend : Yours of the 15th inst. arrived 
yesterday, and I cannot resist the temptation of an- 
swering you immediately. In truth, I like to hear 
from you. I wish to know what you are doing — 
what progress your work is making; and, whilst I 
feel deeply interested for your fame, and the pros- 
perity of a work, which 1 hope, will place the sci- 
ence of Ornithology in the United States on such 
a footing, that there will be but little left for future 
ornithologists to do, I also feel a particular inter- 
est in your personal welfare, and that of all that be- 
longs to you, I am, therefore, under the impression, 
that to hear from you, is to write to you — and ^'nolens 
volens" you will have to answer. Besides, I want to 
see you once more to ascertain whether you have 
stuck to your good resolutions, viz : never to swear, 
(which is a vulgar practice for one who is conver- 
sant with tlie most beautiful of God's works, the 
feathered race,) and never to work on Sundays. 
However, you are now under the tutorage of your 

.104: John BacJnnan. 

<;ood wife, and, I doubt not, you are as obedient to 
her in these things, as you ought to be. * "" * 

Your request, that I should send the bird-skins, is 
a natural one, but it cannot be granted all in a 
huriy. I have several of the skins of the new Frin- 
gilla at your service, the rest are carefully set up in 
the Museum, and Ravenel, a Brother Curator, is 
out of town. Have patience, for in good time you 
shall see all. But the stuffed birds must be returned . 
to us, as I have no right to detain them from the 
Museum. * * =i^ * You say new birds are 
scarce. So they are, and yet, in my opinion, we will 
occasionally find them, for half a centur^^ to come. 
The birds from the West Indies, Mexico, South 
America, and beyond the Rocky Mountains, will 
stray among us now and then. Besides, they have 
their localities. Who sees the Grns Americana in 
the Middle States? Many of your and Wilson's 
birds have never been seen but once. Besides, 
birds that were once rare, are now abundant in some 
places. Witness the Hirundo fidva. Your new 
Muscicapa bird was here in our college yard this 
summer, and I doubt not but her whole progeny will 
come to hear the boys spout Latin next summer. 

I will tell you the plan I have adopted : I try 
to interest every fellow that has a little brains to 
look out for new birds. I take him to the Museum — 
.show him our birds and my skins, and then beg him 
to jDrocure the skin of every rare bird, and if not, at 
least to send me his wings and tail, head and feet. 
Be patient, friend, for two years more, and you shall 
hear what the South and West can produce. Day, 
Cost, Dr. Strobel,and half a dozen others, are work- 
ing for you and me. 

And now, let your good lady mix you a half tum- 
bler of claret, with a little sugar, and listen to what 
I have to tell you. 1 have another bird for you ; aye, 

A new Humming- Bird. 105 

my friend, and one that will interest all lovers of 
Ornithology. Dr. Strobel brought me from Key 
West a box of birds — I tumbled and tumbled over 
the ragged specimens — nothing new, till I came to 
ji little fellow, and what should he be, but a Trochi- 
lu.^, (Humming-Bird,) not yet figured. It is double 
the size of our Calubris, with a long bill, etc., but it 
is in sad order, and I am afraid it cannot be drawn. 
However, he was knocked from a bush by Dr. Stro- 
bel himself, at Key West — so Ave have now, fn'o Hum- 
ming Birds. 

I have also a little yarn for you about a new 
pigeon ; but it may be all a mistake ; besides, I must 
always keep something in reserve. 

Your friend, J. B. 

To AuDUJJON, in Boston. 

Charleston, November lltli, 1832. 

I do feel greatly obliged to you for your very 
kind and satisfactory letter, it is worth its weight in 
gold to me. It gives me information which I can- 
not procure with labor or money in this part of the 

In almost every case, I agree with you. On the 
migration of birds, my own experience tells me, that 
you are right, at least, in part — but the matter is 
still open for observation and inquiry. The new 
Humming Bird, I believe, to be the " Trochilus 
Mango, '^ or Mangrove hummingbird, described, but 
not figured, in Shaws Zoology. I hope that we 
may manage to have this bird figured — when I say 
"u?e" — I mean "you" and my "amanuensis," 
Maria. I have nothing new to tell you in the shape 
of birds — the history of the new birds, as far as 1 
know them, will be faithfully detailed, as soon as F 
return from my annual (Church) tour, which I shall 

.101) John Bachman. 

undertake in a couple of days ; and then, my friend, 
I will send you all the birds that I have a right to; 
the Humming Bird and the Sparrow, and the draw- 
ings and skins of the rest. Maria has figured for 
you the " White Hibiscus,'' and, also, a red one, both 
natives, and beautiful ; a Euonymus in seed, in 
which our Sylvia is placed; the white Nondescript 
Rose ; the Gordonica, a Begonia, &c. She is pre- 
pared to send them to you — shall she ship them at 
once to Boston ? 

My good wife, and sister Maria, are sitting beside 
me — the latter is reading your letter, and the former 
looking on. All are well — little folks and all — and 
all beg me to remember them to you and yours. 

Capt. Day sails from Savannah in a new Cutter ; 
(Jost is with him, and I have now a letter, stating 
their desire that you should join them. They are 
under the Collector of Savannah; but you will have 
no difficulty in getting every accommodation. Dr. 
Strobel sailed yesterday for New York, where he will 
will remain three weeks, and afterwards settle on 
the Sinebal Island, Florida. He has been indus- 
trious, bringing me out a box of birds, skinned by 
himself Do write to him in New York; he thinks 
much of you, and will be of service to us. Write, 
and I shall thank you, 

Pluto, (the dog) is well, ears and all, and sends 
his compliments to you. The cranes are skinned ; 
one is set up in the Museum, and one I have. They 
became dreadfully dangerous, and long confine- 
ment would have ruined their plumage. In the 
nick of time, when in fine plumage, a few drops of 
prussic acid did the job. I have a complete history 
of these gentry — they are great at catching butter- 
flies and sphinxes. 

You give me great pleasure by stating what birds 
you are drawing. You say that you have answered 

Tlie Carolina Hare. 107 

all my inquiries, and beg me to make otliers. You 
have indeed done wonders, and if you hereafter, do 
but half as well, I cannot complain * ■■' * * * 
Your resolution to publish the ord. \o\. of Water 
Birds, you will recollect was partly entered into here, 
and from that moment, my mind w^as at ease. It 
will give you four or five years in advance, and wrll 
enable you, in a 5th Vol., to add all recent discov- 
eries of Land and Water Birds. Should you, yet be 
able to go to Florida and the Pacific, I apprehend 
that you will extend our American Ornithology to 
460 or 470 species, perhaps more. Your sons being- 
able to skin birds and paint them, is a great desid- 
eratum — it should be mentioned in your preface to 
your next volume. The talents of the family com- 
bined, (for I know that Mrs. Audubon can write,) 
will now place the work beyond the fear of falling 
through, even in case of your death — and the pub- 
lic ought to know it. But you must push for sub- 
scribers. If your son Victor can do nothing in 
Europe, you must go there yourself, and sooner than 
let the work suffer, you must go on a pilgrimage 
throughout all the great cities of our Union. Should 
God spare your life, I want to hear of you enjoying, 
in your old age, '' Otiura cum dignitate" and to see 
your children reaping some of your recompense. 
Do you not begin to get tired of my long letters ? To- 
morrow evening I am to read before the Philos- 
ophic Society, a description of the new " Carolina 
Hare." G., has written a review of Nuttall — it is 
severe and unwise, and I shall try lo prevail on him 
to suppress it. I do not like to see a good fellow 
put down. 

The cholera is on Coles Island — you know where 
that is — do you remember where we waded over the 
sand hills on Folly Island? There, a vessel has 
stranded, with Irish emigrants from New York, with 

108 Joliii Bachman. 

cholera. Fifty are dead and lying beneath the 
sands. I hope that it will come no nearer to 

My compliments to your son John, with my 
thanks for his kindness.* Tell him I can only repay 
when he calls on me, professionally, to tie the knot 
for him — and all shall be done for bird skins. 

And now, my friend, farewell I soon I hope to hear 
from you again — and again to thank you that old 
friends are not forgotten. 

Your friend, J, B. 

To Audubon : 

Charleston, Dec. 20th, 1832. 
There has not a day passed over my head, for the 
last two weeks, in wliich I have not made the reso- 
lution, " To-day I will write to Audubon," but I was 
dull and gloomy (which you will say is uncommon 
for me). I had nothing to write, but bad news, and 
I hoped, every day, to see our political atmosphere 
a little brighter. Do not ask me about birds — i 
scarcely know a Buzzard from a King Bird. I will 
wait until I have had a cup of tea, and then I shall, 
perhaps, be in a better humor for writing. Now is 
your time to show your love and charity towards 
me, by writing me often, although I may not answer 
immediately. (October 21st.) This is not an answer 
to your two very kind letters ; I hope to make some 
returns for them, ere long. The first made jne laugli 
for nearly a week, and the other, caused me to say^ 
•' ] thank you.'." I possess none of the bird-skins 
you speak of sending me ; and the Grouse you killed 
in Maine, I have never seen. I am quite pleased to 
hear that you have a new owl. By the very first 

*At this date he had not met Victor (4., or .Toliii W 
tlie two sons of Audubon. 

Birds or Politics. 109 

opportunity, I shall send you the new birds and 
drawings. Nuttall will not be attacked from the 
South, I hope. It seems to me that he might greatly 
improve his second volume by holding fre(|uent 
conversations with you, and he might add, in an 
appendix, such land birds as you have described, 
and he has omitted. I have found a few new species 
of plants that I should like to submit to him. Oh, 
wliat an enjoyment it would be for me to escape, 
just for one week, from the hydra-headed, " XuUiti- 
cation," and sit by your side and talk of birds ! 

Your friend, J. I>. 



Address ox houtki i;irRK — essay ox the mu;ratiox of birds. 

THE Pastor of 8t. John's regarded all God's 
creatures as bumble messengers and guides 
to lead men to tbe feet of tbe Divine Teacher. As 
he contemi)lated with the spiritual eye the marvel- 
lous works of creation, penetrated with love and 
gratitude to tbe Creator be sought to lead others to 
study tbe wonderful '' Book of Nature." 

He was deeply interested, and mainly instru- 
mental, in tbe formation of a Horticultural Society 
in (Charleston. In 1833, be was requested to 
follow u}) liis teachings with an address to the 

We have selected extracts from the same ; yet 
these lack, of course, the continuity of the whole. 
Besides, the facts and truths, perhaps familiar to 
us, came to our fathers and mothers fresh and new. 
Tlie words, too, fell from the lips of one whose 
patient, modest and unselfish labors, liad won their 
admiration and respect, To this must be added the 
electrical presence, voice and smile of .John Bach- 

HoTticultiire. Ill 

Kxtracts fi'Oiii (Oi Addrexx (hilreved hefove the iroiilcultai-al Socidif 
of Charleston, on the occosioii of its Second Anniversary, in ISoi. 

Horticulture has two objects in view : 

First. — The introduction and cultivation of such 
vegetables and fruits, as may serve for tlie food or 
medicine of man. 

Secondly. — The cultivation of trees, shrubs and 
flowers, which, by their shade, fragrance or beauty, 
ma}^ serve to refine and purify his mind, add to his 
pleasure, and awaken in his bosom sentiments of 
admiration to that Being, who, in mercy, has 
promised, that while the earth remaineth, seedtime 
and harvest, summer and winter, shall not cease. 

Come, let us unitedly engage in studies and em- 
ployments which will not be confined to the sweets 
of Flora, or the apples of Pomona ; our views will 
embrace a wider field — a more extended sphere of 
public utility. AVhilst we are introducing new 
subjects of horticultural industry into our State, we 
may be able also to diffuse botanical and scientific 
knowledge, contribute something to ameliorate the 
condition of the poor, add to the virtues of our 
people, and lead the contemplation of man from 
nature up to nature's God. * * * 

The advantages of science in horticultural \)\\v- 
suits, do not appear to be sufficiently estimated in 
our midst. I would endeavor to show you in what 
way ornithology, chemistry, entomology, and physi- 
ological botany, are closely allied to, and insepa- 
rably connected with, the science of horticulture. 

^ :Jc ;^; >;; ^ :(; ^ 

Without a suitable knowledge of Ornithology, we 
are unable to know which birds are injurious, and 
wdiich are a positive benefit to the farmer; whicli 
ought to be banished from our fields, orchards and 

112 Jo] ill Bachman. 

gardens ; and which ought to be encouraged there 
by all the allurements in our power. 

The Purple Grackle, in New England, was de- 
stroyed in consequence of the Governor's offering 
three-pence per head ; and the result was, that the 
insects multiplied so rapidly, that the herbage was 
destroyed, and the inhabitants were obliged to 
obtain liay from Pennsylvania and England. The 
poor Wood-pecker is shot by every idle boy, because 
he is said to extract the juices of apple trees ; when, 
in most cases, he is attracted there by the worm 
Avhich is perforating the tree ; and thus the bird on 
which the sentence of death is pronounced as an 
enemy, has come to save the tree by feeding on its 
destroyer. Let then a sufHciency of Ornithology be 
known by the cultivators of the soil, to distinguish, 
in the feathered race, an enemy from a friend. If 
the hawk, the crow and the starling, are deserving 
of death for their depredations, let us spare the 
beautiful warblers — the thrashes, and the Avrens, 
that come to our gardens to claim the worm, and to 
reward us with a song. 

The science of Chemistry advances no inconsidera- 
ble claim to the attention of the horticulturist. 
In order to the successful rearing of plants, we must 
l)lace them in soil adapted to their natures. The 
okra, tomato, watermelon, etc., while they grow 
well in some soils, in others struggle through a 
sickly existence, and die before they bring their 
fruits to maturity. As an evidence of what can be 
effected by a combination of chemical and practical 
knowledge in the cultivation of the earth, it is only 
necessary to mention the experiments of the great 
chemist, Lavoisier. In order to impress on the 
minds of the people of La Vendee, France, the ad- 
vantages of combining chemical with practical 
knowledge, he cultivated two hundred and forty 

Entomology. 113 

acres on scientific principles. In nine years his 
produce was doubled, and bis crops afforded one- 
third more than those of ordinary cultivators. "^ "^ 

Entomology, too, a science but little known until 
very recently, lays a weighty claim to the attention 
of the horticulturist. We find the earth and the 
air filled with thousands of living beings, assuming 
the most wonderful changes, and gifted with the 
most surprising instincts. Some of these, like the 
silk-worm, the cochineal, and the cantharides, add 
to the wealth and luxury of man, or minister relief 
to his diseases ; others are destructive to his pros- 
pects, and enemies to his repose. 

The oak timber in the royal dock-yards, in 
Sweden, had been perforated, and greatly injured ; 
the king sent to Linnaeus, the father of Natural 
History, to trace out the cause of the destruction of the 
timber. He detected the lurking culprit under the 
form of a beetle, {Lymexylon navale,) and by direct- 
ing the timber to be immersed, during the time of 
the matamorphosis of that insect, furnished a rem- 
edy which secured it from future attacks. * ^i< ^ 
A caterpillar of unusual size and singular form, 
made its appearance on the trees of the Lombardy 
poplar, in the State of New York, about twenty 
years ago. Many idle reports were circulated. A 
dog was said toliave been stung by one of the cater- 
pillars, which occasioned swelling and death ; rumor 
soon asserted that the victim was a child, and the 
newspapers circulated each idle tale. Now the work 
of destruction begun — the axe was applied to the or- 
namental trees that shaded some of the finest streets 
of the village. The same work ot extermination 
was carried on at farm-houses and gentlemen's coun- 
try seats, and the stately poplars were levelled to 
the ground and burnt. The lover of nature remon- 
strated, but it was vain to contend against the power- 

]14 JoJm Bacln)i(ni. 

ful current of prejiulice. A little knowledge of En- 
tomology might have satisfied the destroyers of those 
beautiful works of God, that the larva they so much 
dreaded was harmless, and that it would soon as- 
sume a chrysalis form, and after lying inactive for 
a short time, would put on wings of a brilliant hue, 
flit joyously on the air, and live on the nectar of 

But an objection has been urged against this study, 
which the lovers of science are anxious to coml)at, 
viz : that as it requires death to be inflicted upon 
its subjects, therefore they charge us with inhu- 
manity. Cruelty consists in torturing or destroying 
any living thing from mere wantonness, without a 
useful end in view. The entomologist does not do 
this. His insects, by processes which science has 
taught him, are ahnost instantaneously killed. 

He does not agree with the sentiment expressed 
by the poet : 

" The poor beetle that we tread upon, 

In eorporal suffrance, feels a pang as great 
As when a giant dies." 

His knowledge convinces him that this contains 
more poetry than truth. An examination of the 
internal system of insects must convince us, that 
they possess less sensibility than ^'cn tlie tortoise, 
which is known to walk after its head lu\s been sep- 
arated from his body. The silk-worm and other of 
the lepidopterous family, after being deprived of 
both legs and wings, will not only deposit their 
eggs, as if nothing had occurred, but will also live 
on. Besides the period of an insect life, when it is 
procured for the cabinet of the entomologist, is 
almost the last stage of its existence. Tlie butteriiy 
would have perished in a few days, and the coleop- 
terous insect would not lonir have survived. Let 

The Mulberry. 115 

it be remembered, too, that the specimens which are 
treasured in the cabinet of a naturalist, which he 
values more than gold, and on which he thus con- 
fers a kind of immortality, by thus being collected, 
liave been preserved from rapacious birds, fish, or 
insects, which would soon have devoured them — 
]nore have been destroyed in this manner, in a 
single day, than have been collected V)y all the ento- 
mologists in the world. 

The cultivation of trees for shade and ornament, 
should engage a portion of our attention, particu- 
larly in our city, where we can thus bring perfume 
into the air — produce an agreeable shade, and con- 
tribute to the health and comfort of our families. 

Our vegetable gardens miglit, particularly in the 
winter and the spring, be made among the very finest 
and lucrative in the world. Many of the vegetables 
Avliich, in Europe, are raised with great care and 
expense in hot houses, thrive and flourish with us 
in the open air. 

The Strawberry, a fruit that lias always been a 
lavorite, is well deserving of the attention and en- 
couragement of this Society. Some of them cannot 
endure the heat of our summer, whilst others seem 
scarcely affected by heat and moisture. It is more 
tlian probable tliat we may find varieties adapted to 
tlie soil of every garden. 

The Mulberry tree is easily cultivated — our soil 
and climate are admirabl}' adapted to its growth. 
Some of those that were planted by the first German 
Missionaries at Ebenezer, Georgia, during the time 
of Governor Oglethorpe, are still in a flourishing 
condition. The culture of the Mulberry ought to be 
more attended to in our Southern country. The time 
may not be far distant, when the reduced prices of 
cotton may render the raising of silk, particularly 
the raw material, one of tlie staples ot the South. 

116 Joliu Ikichinan. 

It is now believed tliat many })ortions of. the 
poorest pine-barrens in onr middle districts, are ad- 
mirably adapted to the culture of the grape. In the 
neighborhood of Charleston, many varieties for the 
use of the table are produced. 

The forests of Carolina abound in a vast variety 
of beautiful trees and shrubs, which we ought to 
transplant into our walks and gardens. Is there a 
tree in the world more worthy of admiration than 
our Magnolia Grandifiora, the majestic native of our 
woods? Our Azaleas, Phlox, Scarlet Lobelias, Jas- 
mines, Honeysuckles, etc., give to the woods of Car- 
olina a charm, which not only tills the heart of the 
lover of nature with delight, but causes even dull- 
ness to pause, wonder, and admire. 

The God of Nature has cast our lot on this teem- 
ing earth ; let it be our task, to do all that in us 
lies, to render this earth the abode of comfort and of 

If we do not give to man that which is profi- 
table in a pecuniary point of view, we should re- 
member, that every extra tie and enjoyment makes 
a man's home dearer to him. The vegetables which 
he has raised with his own hands, in his own 
garden — the tree and vine which his wife and his 
children have assisted him in planting — the fruits 
which they have admired and relished together, 
and the flowers which they have reared with 
mutual care, all will serve to strengthen the bonds 
of conjugal, parental, and filial love." 

In 1840, the Horticultural Society was so well es- 
tablished, that it offered premiums to competitors. 
We hold in our own hand two large, heavy silver 
medals, (greatly prized by the recipients). They 
bear the device, " Frucfibu.s Ikcovar One was 

The Mhjration of Binh, 117 

awarded to Mrs. Bacliman, for the best specimens 
of indigenous plants, the other to Rev. John Bach- 
man, for the best specimens of cauliflower. 

Dr. Bach man had also employed his few leisure 
moments in preparing an Essay entitled, " The 
Migration of the Birds of XortJi America^' — a sub- 
ject that had attracted his attention from boyhood. 
The paper was read before the Literary and Philo- 
sophical Society of Charleston, March 15th, 1833. 
It was afterwards published in one of the scientific 

We give a few extracts : 

'• For ages past, the migration of birds has been a 
subject of great interest to naturalists. The myste- 
rious appearance and disappearance of many species, 
at different periods of the year; the remote or un- 
known situations to which they retire ; the sudden 
appearance of some birds in the spring, after one or 
two days of warm weather, and their equally sudden 
disappearance on the first cold day ; all have con- 
duced to create many vague and superstitious 
notions in the minds of the uninformed, and have 
often left the intelligent student of nature in per- 
plexity and doubt. * * All are agreed on one 
point, that there is a wide field open for inquiry 
and observation. The works of God, amidst the 
w^onders of nature, are always worthy of investiga- 

Very little has been Avritten on the migration of 
North American birds; atopic probably regarded of 
too little importance to meet the research necessary 
to a satisfactory result of sucli an intricate subject ; 
for the elucidation of which, I have myself possessed 

118 Jo] in BacJiman. 

some opportunities, by witnessing the migration of 
birds, in three very distinct portions of America 

That instinct is truly mysterious, which, at partic- 
ular seasons of the year, teaches birds to take wing 
and leave their native haunts, pursuing their onwar<l 
course, sometimes across arms of the sea, over moun- 
tains and forests, into far distant countries. It is 
e(|ually surprising, that many of them, beginning 
their migrations in summer, should thus anticipate 
the cold ; while others return from Southern climes, 
before the snows of the North have disappeared, and 
whilst winter still "lingers in the lap of spring." * * 

Whatever difficulties there may be in accounting 
for that mysterious principle called instinct, whicli 
induces birds, at certain seasons, to change their 
abode, and, after an interval of six months, to return 
to the neighborhood where, the year before, they 
reared their young ; the fact of these migrations is 
nncontrovertible, and the reasons why they take 
place are becoming more and more apparent. Those 
birds that migrate, are from the very structure of 
their bodies, admirably adapted to rapid and con- 
tinued flight. Their feathers are so light, that they 
float in the atmosphere for many hours with very 
little artificial support. The tubes of these feathers 
are hollow ; the bones are specifically lighter than 
those of quadrupeds ; the bones, also, are hollow, 
and instead of marrow, are filled with air. They 
are furnished with lungs of an unusually large size 
adhering to the ribs, and provided with aerial cells, 
insinuating themselves into the abdomen. These, 
added to great length and strength of wing, enable 
them with ease and rapidity, to navigate the air — to 
elevate themselves above the clouds, and pass from 
one country and climate to another. * * From 
a variety of accurate experiments, which have been 
made at different periods, it appears that the 

Speed of Birds. 119 

Hawk, the Wild Pigeon, {Colinnha migrator la,) and 
several species of Wild Ducks, fly at the rate of a 
mile in a minute and a half; this is at the rate of 
forty miles an hour, nine hundred and sixty miles 
in twenty-four hours. This would enable birds to 
pass from Charleston to our distant northern settle- 
ments in a single day ; and this easily accounts for 
the circumstance, that geese, ducks, and pigeons 
have b^en taken in the Northern and Eastern States, 
with undigested rice in their crops, which must 
have been picked up in the rice fields of Carolina or 
Georgia, but the day before. " * ^i^ =<< 

The story of the falcon of Henry n,is wellknown: 
which, while eagerly pursuing one of the small bus- 
tards at Fontainebleau, was taken the following day, 
at Malta, and recognized by the ring which she bore. 

Swallows fly at the rate of a mile a minute. That 
many birds continue their migrations by night as 
well as by day, may be easily ascertained from their 
notes, wdiich in autumn and spring, the seasons of 
their migration, we often hear by night. The great 
Whooping Crane scarcely ever pauses in his migra- 
tions to rest in the Middle States. I have heard his 
hoarse notes as he was passing over the highest 
mountains of the Alleghany ; but he was always too 
high to be seen by the naked eye. This bird seems 
to take wing from his usual winter retreats in the 
South, ascends into the higher regions of air (where 
less inconvenience is experienced from darkness,) 
and scarcely halts until he arrives at his breeding- 
places, in or near the polar regions. 

Birds migrate, either to avoid the cold of winter, 
or to find more abundant food. I am induced to 
believe that the latter is a stronger principle than the 
former. * =*^ * Those immense numbers of birds 
that feed on insects and \vorms, all migrate to those 
countries where they are abundantly supplied with 

120 John Ikichman. 

this kind of food. These are the Swallows {Hirundo)^ 
the Night Hawk and the Whippoorwill (C'ap/'z'mw^- 
gu>i), the fly-catchers and warblers. To them, migra- 
tion is essential to the support of life. Insects at that 
season disappear ; the eartli is bound in frost, or 
covered over with snow ; but long ere that, these 
lively tenants of the air, liave obeyed the impulses 
of a mysterious instinct, cWid liave migrated to more 
congenial climes. 

To these, we may add all birds that obtain suste- 
nance from fresh water ponds and rivers. These, find- 
ing the Northern swamps, brooks and shores, frozen 
over, migrate to milder regions, where they can pro- 
cure suitable food. Those that gain a subsistence 
from the sea, are not obliged to migrate, as the 
Gulls, Petrels and Pufhns, etc. In addition to their 
warm coverhig, they are supplied with sacs, con- 
taining an oleagenous substance, with which they 
lubricate their feathers, thus rendering them im- 
pervious to moisture. While floating on the surface 
of the water, they often draw up their feet beneath 
their warm covering of down, and thus every part 
of their body is protected from tlie influence of the 

There is anotlier circumstance that ought to be 
taken into consideration, with regard to the capacity 
of birds to endure cold. A large mass of air pene- 
trates the lungs and all the aerial sacs and canals of 
the bird, thus increasing the action of the heart and 
propelling the tide of circulation with great rapidity. 
The pulsation can scarcely be counted, and the tem- 
perature of tlie bodies is as high as 106° Fahrenheit — 
the heat of the body enables them to bear with ease, 
the rigorous cold in the distant north, and in the 
elevated regions of the air. * * j ^r^ye ^qq^^ 
wild pigeons in immense flocks in Canada, in the 
coldest winters, when the thermometer was below 

Why Birds Migrate. 121 

zero. It is to be remarked, that the previous au- 
tumn had produced an abundance of beech-nuts 
and buck-wheat — their favorite food ; and that the 
^•round was not yet covered with snow. It is only 
when the forests of the \yest have failed in their 
usual supply of mast and berries, that the wild 
pigeons come among us, to claim a share of the 
acorns and berries of our woods, and the refuse grains 
scattered over our rice fields. 

When the period of migration arrives, birds 
€vince an uncontrollable restlessnesss of disposition, 
as if conscious that an important undertaking was 
at hand. I have kept in my aviary, robins, finches 
and orioles, that had been procured when young at 
the North, and no sooner did the Spring, (the time 
of migration) arrive, than they exhibited, by their 
constant fluttering, a disposition to escape, and the 
moment this was affected, they flew off*, not to the 
South or West, but as directly in the Inie of migra- 
tion, as if guided by a compass. These are facts of 
which the humblest person may inform himself, 
but which neither our wisdom, nor our philosophy, 
<3an explain. 

The lover of nature who, in the seasons of the 
migrations of birds, sees flock after flock passing 
over his head, all day long, or witnesses the wrens, 
bluebirds and creepers, stopping just for a few min- 
utes to seize a worm or an insect ; if he listens at 
night will hear unusual sounds. The single sharp 
note of the rice-bird repeated all around him, is suc- 
ceeded by the crake of the snipe, resembling the 
grating of a wheel, repeated at long intervals ; and 
the Woodcock (Scolopax minor), wheels around him 
uttering notes like the loud ticking of a watch, so 
rapidly repeated, that they cannot be counted. 
The bird ascends higher and still higher in the air, 
like the lark of Europe, till he seems to have risen 

122 John Baehman. 

above the clouds, when, suddenly his voice is hush- 
ed, and, in zigzag lines, he descends rapidly to the 
earth, and alights near the spot from whence he arose. 
This is repeated lor several successive evenings, and 
at early dawn, till, suddenly, he begins his annual 
migration and is seen no more. The Yellows-crown- 
ed and Night Herons utter their hoarse croak as 
they pass high and rapidly on ; and at a still greater 
distance is heard the, not unmusical, cry of the Can- 
ada goose. In the mean time the Rails, Owls^ 
Thrushes, Warblers, and many other birds, glide 
silently by the observer, like spirits of the air ; and 
without being superstitious, there comes over him a 
sensation of admiration and fear; and he feels the 
truth of the language of inspiration, " Great and 
marvellous are Thy luorks, Lord God Almighty J' 

The arrival and departure of birds, affords a 
2)retty sure indication of the state of the weather, 
and the advance of the seasons. Living constantly 
in the air, and exposed to all its variations, they be- 
come, either from instinct or habit, acquainted with 
the changes of the atmosphere, with the winds and 
seasons. When the well known notes of the Whip- 
poorwill are heard, tlie farmer is reminded that the 
time for planting corn is at hand. The Fish-hawk's 
return to the rivers of the North, is regarded by the 
fisherman as a proof that the season for taking shad 
has arrived. AVhen the Swallow appears, the dan- 
ger of frost is believed to be over; the Cuckoo of 
Europe is hailed by the old and young, as an evi- 
dence of the return of Spring. 

" Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green. 
Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 
No winter in thy year."' 

The inhabitants of our Middle and Nortliern 
States should feel equally interested and pleased 

Natures Signal Service. 123 

when they hear the soft and melodious notes 
of the bhiebird, the robin, and the wood-thrush, 
reminding them that " tJw Winter is '}>ast and gone, 
and the time of tJte singing bird Juts corned 

Previous to a storm the birds give indications of 
its approach. Our A^uhures in great numbers rise 
in circles till they are almost lost in the region of the 
clouds, the stormy Petrels (Thlassidroma Wilsonii, 
Bon.) crowd in great numbers around vessels, and 
follow in their wake, as if seeking the protection of 
man ; the Seagulls and Terns make the shores re-echo 
with their hoarse, clamorous notes, and the Barred- 
owl {Stric nebidosa) utters his funereal cries even in 
the day. But when fine weather is about to return, 
the whole scene is changed, and every hedge, copse, 
and grove is rendered vocal, and the whole feath- 
ered tribe seem to rejoice in the anticipation of 
bright skies and sunny days. 

My subject is far from exhausted, but I am ad- 
]nonished to bring these desultory remarks to a 
<?lose. If I have succeeded in throwing even a ray 
of light upon that whicli has hitherto appeared 
mysterious in nature ; or if I have been enabled to 
awaken, in a single mind, a sentiment of admiration 
and gratitude to that superintending Providence 
who teaches the stork in the heavens to know her 
appointed time, and tlie turtle, and the crane, and 
the swallow to know the time of their coming, I shall 
feel doubly recompensed for those pleasing studies 
of nature wliich have enabled me to offer tliese 

The farther we pursue this subject, the more we 
shall be convinced that in nature there is a wise 
arrangement which governs instinct and action, and 
which creates being, beauty, and happiness. Tlie 
Ifiws by wdiich the whole system of nature is gov- 
<erned, are e([ually simple and majestic, and are 

124 John Bachman. 

equally visible in the minutest, as well as in the 
most stupendous of God's works. From the beauty 
and harmony of the system of nature by which we 
are surrounded, the mind is sensibly led to admire 
and adore tlie mighty Cause — the Fountain of wis- 
dom and perfection, the Unseen but Everpresent, 
AVho is the source of all matter, mind and modes 
of existence. 

The temple of nature, wide and wonderful as it is, 
stands ever open, inviting all to enter and learn 
lessons which are calculated not only to enlighten 
the mind, but to improve the heart. The chief ob- 
ject of science and philosophy should be to lead to 
the altar of the benevolent Author of all things, 
and to make all our experience and knowledge sub- 
servient to His grand designs. 


1832 TO 183 5. 
Labors in Natural History. 

Letters to audubon and his sons— successful labors in 
botany and natural history — anecdote of oemler the 
enthusiastic botanist — the visit of audubon and his 
family — mr. edward harris, of morristown, n. .t. — a 
night with the hunters at liberty hall. 

To Audubon : 

Charleston, January 20th, 1833. 

My Dear Friend : For some weeks I have 
been unwell, and for a few days in bed. I shall en- 
deavor to-day, as I am up again, to amuse myself in 
writing to you. 

Your last letter required a Philadelphia lawyer to 
decipher it, all pothooks ; you must have taken les- 
sons from some new-fangled writing-master in 
Yankee-town, who has taught you to place the 
letters, as Henry Ward sometimes does his birds in a 
basket — heads to tails and crosswise. ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Now for a rambling letter about birds. I have 
not used a gun more than once this winter, but, 
hope to do so again — when I regain my health. Dr. 
Strobel has gone to Sinebal — a portion of Florida 
where you have never been. Leitner, the Botanist, 
leaves here on an expedition to Florida. Many of 
us have subscribed in shares, to receive the amount 
of our subscriptions in any collections in Natural 

lli() John Bach man. 

History that we may desire. My nephew, Dr. 
Martin Lee, lias lately returned from Alabama, 
where he expects to settle as physician and planter. 
He informs me of a very large Hare in that State, 
living in the swamps ; and also, speaks of a large 
brown Squirrel. I have just given him some 
arsenic, as he starts to-morrow morning, and he will 
send us on every thing that he conceives to be new. 

Before I forget it, you cannot form an idea how 
acceptable a couple of skins of the " Variable Hare," 
would be to me. I have alread}^ added one Hare to 
the Fauna of the United States — hope to add another 
very soon, and I want the skin of your Northern 
one to make comparisons. 

Henry Ward is still at Santee : he has set up a 
number of Ducks and Hawks, together with a Deer, 
Turkey, Eagle, etc. He goes next week to the sea- 
shore for Gulls and Sea-ducks — as yet, he has found 
nothing even rare. 

Our winter has, as yet, been moderate, and we 
have not had the usual Northern birds. 

I should not like you to publish a single error, if 
you can avoid it, and therefore express my fears that 
the " Blue-headed Pigeon," may not frequent any of 
the Florida Keys. I have, as yet, found no one who 
ever saw them there ; and, as you did not kill any of 
the V)irds, you might possibly have been mistaken — 
your reputation is worth more than a dozen uew 
species of birds. But, oh I if Captain Day, with his 
" Revenue Cutter," could be sent round to the 
Pacific, what a harvest would be in store for you. 

I rejoice at the success of your work in Europe 
and America ; if you live to complete it in the same 
style iu which it lias been commenced, there will bo 
fame for you and your children. 

I have been trvimr to send sister Maria's drawings 

Birds. 127 

together with a few bird- skins to you by land, but 
no opportunity offers ; and, as she has only one more 
to draw, I. shall send them by water. 

Tell your kind son, John, to show his good will 
to me by putting me up a few bird-skins. I am 
told that he does not particularly like bird-skin- 
ning ; tell him that he might have a worse em- 
ployment. How great a blessing is a wife and sons, 
if they are clever. I fancy you like a king giving 
general orders in your old age, and your family, 
like Ministers of State, executing them. * * * 
I have hardly room left to add my name and to say 
that, I am, your friend, J. B. 

John Audubon sends the skins and writes his 
first letter to his future father-in-law. We give the 

To John W. Audubon : 

Charleston, February 28th, 1833. 

I received your welcome letter, and before I had 
time to answer it, your generous present arrived. 
I write this evening to thank you, in great sincerity, 
for this act of attention and kind remembrance. To 
show you how much I prize the bird-skins, let me 
assure you, that I had not a single one in my col- 
lection of the kind ,vou sent, and, some of the birds, 
I had never seen. I have examined them over and 
over again ; I have labelled them all ; and they will 
always remind me of the father and son to whom I 
am under many obligations. You sent me one more 
bird than your list specified — the Golden-Eyed Duck — 
I suppose to show, that a generous man will do 
more than he promises. 

I hope that it will give no offence to old Mr. 
Jostle, if I just add, tliat notwithstanding his elegant 

128 John Bachman. 

copper-plate, his son writes a somewhat better hand 
than he does himself. There is room, however, for 
improvement in all of us, and the time may come, 
when he may be so superior in that department, as 
to set up a patent Writing School, to teach the whole 
system in one lesson, and perhaps, by that time, I 
may do the same in drawing. 

You certainly underrate your talents as a stufFer 
of birds — indeed, they are the best skins I have in 
my possession, and I only wish that I could do them 
as well — even Henry Ward acknowledges that you 
are his equal in this art. 

I am anxious to feel m3^self at home in every part 
of Ornithology, so that I may be able to review my 
old friend's " Second Volume." In two or three 
weeks we will know the result of the agitations of 
Nullifying brethren — for weal or for woe ; and should 
affairs terminate favorably, I shall be able to go on 
with a little more spirit, in mv studies of Natural 

Yes ! I am always ready with or without book, to 
fulfil my pledge, and many a poor fellow has found 
to his cost, that I can tie a knot that no Jack-knife 
can sever. 

What chance is there of my ever shaking you by 
the hand? Will the flowers of spring and sum- 
mer be over, before I obtain even a promise ? 

Tell your good father, that if he is not too tired of 
my long letters, he will hear from me, perhaps, too 
soon. In truth, when I am dull, (and I never have 
known what low spirits were, till I witnessed the 
heart burnings of political strife), I begin to write 
a letter to my old friend. Jostle, and after two or 
three lines, all care and sorrow are forgotten. 

Perhaps, I ought to be ashamed to make one 
other request about bird-skins, after your generos- 
ity ; yet I would add a list of Northern birds that I 

Huntsmen. 129 

cannot get here, not that I wish you to put yourself 
to one dollar's expense, or any unnecessary trouble. 
But, I have thought, that when two good shots 
crack over the birds right and left, you may now 
and then come across one that would suit me — that 
old Jostle may not want, and that young Jostle may 
not find of too unpleasant a savor to skin. I only 
say, If theij come in your way, remember me ; if I never 
receive a single one more, I have no right to com- 
plain. Now what in return shall I do for you in the 
way of skins ? This is the land of Cranes, will they 
be of any use ? 

Just ask your father, whether he remembers 
Chisolm's Pond — when I missed, I always had for 
an excuse, that my gun was too short, and when he 
did so, he always said that the Cranes were a quarter, 
of a mile off. We are all well. Our best respects to 
your parents; I shall always be glad to hear from 
you. J. B. 

To Audubon: 

Charleston, January 23d, 1833. 

M}^ dear Audubon — In most cases I have to apol- 
ogize to my correspondents, for my neglect in writ- 
ing; I must now apologize for writing so often. In 
fact, I have been seriously sick, and mend slowly. I 
want something to amuse me, and while I am 
writing to you my mind is cheered, and I can, al- 
most fancy myself enjoying over again, the happy 
hours we spent together — they were, the happiest of 
my life. Do you not remember, as if it were yester- 
day, with what triumph we brought home the first 
" Blue Herons?" With what a shout we made the 
forest echo, when we picked up the " Yellow-crown- 
ed Heron," which you were so anxious to draw; and 
how we rejoiced when, after taking so wide a tour 

130 Jo] in Bachnian. 

over the " Charleston Bridge," we, at last found out 
where the "White Cranes" fed; how you cheated 
me out of a shot ; and how we hung up the fellows 
by their long necks on the bushes. 

I am ver}^ much gratified to hear l>y yours of the 
11th, inst., that your son Victor arrived safely, and 
that he is doing well in England ; and that your 
work is prospering. You are aware that I have al- 
ways had some fears that 3^our work, (so very expen- 
sive), might embarrass you in a pecuniary point of 
view. Your son being an active man and acquaint- 
ed with business, may be of immense service to you. 
If pecuniary difficulties are overcome, (and I trust 
that they will be by active exertions,) your work 
may be completed, even though you should not live 
C'to give it a finishing hand. In a very short time, 
you will have drawn the greater part of the known 
American Birds, and you have very judiciously 
and carefully written their habits. There are many 
Avho can put them together in histories. Since your 
last visit to England, you have done wonders. The 
drawings you have made, and the information col- 
lected from Florida, Carolina, Labrador and New 
England, are invaluable. No Ornithologist in the 
world has enjoyed all the advantages wdiich you 
have possessed. 

When I spoke of your obstinacy, I meant it as a 
compliment, and I am glad that you understood 
me ; and yet you are not as obstinate as your pred- 
ecessor, Wilson, who was ready to quarrel with a 
man because he differed from him in opinion. I 
liked Wilson because he studied nature; I like you 
because you give theory to the dogs ; because you 
give to the opinions of others just as much as they 
are worth ; because you will examine and judge for 
yourself, and because you study, where every Natu- 
ralist ought, in the wide field of Nature. How difi'er- 

Correspondence with Audubon. 181 

eiit is her teaching to that expressed l)y men in 
general I have read the speculations of men, I 
have listened to the tales of the ignorant traveler, 
and it seemed as if there were defects in all the works 
of God. Then I have turned to the fields and woods; 
to the air, the earth, and the sea ; and I perceived 
that all was order, harmony, and beauty, and I have 
acknowledged that all the defects were in the short- 
sightedness of man. '•' ^^ =5= * * 

That you will be obliged to begin with the " Water 
Birds/' after the second volume of the " Land Birds " 
is finished, is an event that I conceive inevitable. 
It will take many years to finish your work. Before 
that time a number of land birds will be discovered 
which are now unknown. What land birds may not 
be found in Florida, along the borders of Mexico and 
the Pacific I I am also inclined to believe that you 
may yet wish to include tlie birds of Canada. Under 
any circumstances, you cannot possibly include all 
your land birds in two volumes; but, surely, your 
subscribers would rather have a perfect work in the 
manner proposed, that have some post mortem 
publication like Ord's supplement volume to Wil- 
son, in which the reader has to lament, at every 
step, that the author had not lived to save his work 
from the murderous hands of a friend. 

I scarcely know what answer to give to your ques- 
tions — soliciting advice with regard to your travels 
in the Spring ; but I will say something to convince 
you that I have thought on the subject. The only 
reasons why a visit to the coast of Labrador might 
be advisable, is, that you may be able to complete 
your dissertations on the habits of the Ducks, Gulls, 
etc. This would certainly enable you to say more 
with regard to the habits of our water birds, than 
has ever been written before ; for it cannot be dis- 
guised that little, as yet, is known of water birds — 

132 John Bachman. 

and their histories are just as interesting, if properly 
investigated, as those of the land birds. * * * 
If your visit to Labrador is indispensable, you 
had better go in the Spring. Florida has not yet 
been sufficiently explored. Leitner,* and others. 
Avho are on the look out, may enable you to procure 
additional treasures from that interesting portion of 
our country. Austin Settlement, although not a 
part of the United States, is yet settled b}^ our peo- 
ple ; there you might travel in safety and obtain 
many new birds from Mexico. * * * I do not wish 
you to go to the Pacific, but when you go, be as well 
prepared as you were on your visit to Florida ; go 
with a company. * ^^ * A faithful search along the 
coasts of the Pacific and the banks of the Columbia, 
and the valleys west of tlie Pacific, ought to take 
two years, or at least not under twelve months. 
There is a passage by canoes into the Northern 
Lakes, but there is scarcely a resting place ; the 
traders suff'er sadly, and they would not stop to let 
you kill even a " Bird of Paradise." I hope to live 
to hear you tell many a good yarn about your ad- 
ventures in the land of the " Black Foot Indian " 
and the " Grizzly Bear ; " yet, before this, let your 
mind be made easy by finishing your work as far as 
it can be done. You see I have come to no conclu- 
sion ; but I dare not be more particular. 

Friend Audubon, how many Gulls have you 
drawn ? the number in Bonaparte startles me. * ^~ 
Your last birds, like the leaves of the Sibyl, Avill be 
most valuable, because they will be hard to obtain. 

*Dr. Leitner was an enlightened, highly educated and 
skilful German physician, wlio afterwards accompanied an 
expedition sent to Florida by the United States to keep the 
Indians in check. The savages took Dr. Leitner's scalp as 
a trophy — the dead body was not recovered. His death 
was a loss to science and humanity, as well as to friendship 
and kindred. 

The Birds of America. 133 

See how I have run on — are you not glad that 
my sheet is filled ? 

Best respects to wife and your son John, in which 
I am always joined by my family. 

Your friend, J. B. 

To Audubon, directed to New York City. 

Charleston, March 13th, 1833. 

My dear Audubon : I received your very affection- 
ate letter a few days ago, informing me of the safe 
arrival of the box containing Sister Maria's draw- 
ings, &c. I feel grateful for the expressions of es- 
teem and friendship which your letter contains — 
allow me to add, that my family and myself receive 
no letters which are more welcome, and none are 
read with more avidity than yours. And, now, since 
there is a probability that our correspondence will, 
in some degree, be interrupted in consequence of 
your contemptated visit to the coast of Labrador, a 
selfish feeling almost induces me to wish that you 
might change your mind and remain nearer to us. 
But there is so much interest thrown around one 
who undertakes a long and dangerous journey or 
voyage, that he seems to rise in importance, and 
seems to awaken additional affection, in proportion 
to his dangers, and the length of his absence. I 
must then say, in God's name — Go, and may success 
attend you. 

Sister Maria feels grateful to you for your too flat- 
tering opinion of her efforts. I take it, however, as 
a compliment to myself, inasmuch as though I did 
not use the brush, I occasionally gave advice generally ; 
however, after the drawings icere finished. In answer 
to the question, did siie execute the drawings ? I 
have only to say, "all thcd she did not do, were done 
by your humble servant." 

184 John Bad una n. 

Friend Audubon, it will save me a long letter of 
empty, dry deseriptions, to say to you that the only 
three birds which you have in Maria's drawings, and 
of which you have not seen the originals, were 
shipped two days ago on board of the Saluda packet 
for New York — and it is a chance if the vessel does 
not outsail this letter, as even our roads have de- 
clared for "Nullification." You will now have all 
the skins before you — 'judge for youself, and amend 
Maria's drawings, if you wish ; but, when this is 
done, have pity on me, and send the three last birds 
of the Sylvia back again ; or else the "Philosophical 
Society" may think that a certain Parson and Cu- 
rator does not know the ditference between meinn and 

Well, friend " Jostle,"* the new l)irds have made 
you scratch your head — I fancy I see you rummaging 
up some of the neglected lumber in the store-house 
of that capacious brain of yours — you have more ex- 
perience than your poor friend, but I think, when 
your letter comes, it will tell me that J was not far 
from the mark in the first four birds that I described 
and that the other three can only be known by a 
comparison with the stuffed specimens of birds 
Avhich they represent. * '^- * >■= * 

0, this abominable Synopsis I It is only calculated 
to confuse. Have you seen specimens of these birds ? 
May not Cooper, of New York, have them ? or may 
not "Bonaparte's Vol. of Water Birds" be so far 
underway, as to enable you to make comparison ? 

All beg to be kindl}^ remembered to you and 
yours. Your friend, J. B. 

*After Audubon's first visit to Charleston, we find the 
name "Old Jostle" applied by John Bachman to his friend 
J. J. Audubon, and Young .lostle to his son John, or Jostle 
No. 1, and to Mr. Victor Audubon, Jostle No. 2. Those 
who could have given the origin of these names have passed 

Discoveries. 135 

Charleston, September, 14th, 1833. 

Hail! my old Friend, all hail! Health, success 
and happiness, attend you — the winds, the waves, 
the heavens and fortune, have all smiled on you. 
AYelcome, thrice welcome, to the homes and hearts 
of your friends ! Long may you be spared to be tlie 
honored instrument of giving to the world the 
figures and the biography of that beautiful feathered 
race, that seem to acknowledge you alone as worthy 
of commemorating their forms and their liistories. 
Your letter from Halifax has made me quite happy. 
I am like a boy that has just heard of a month's 
holiday. I have just read your letter aloud at tlie 
dinner table — all rejoiced, and even my old mother, 
was much interested ; all, even to the youngest, 
send their good wishes, respects and love to you. 

I congratulate you on your new discoveries. * * 
I long — long to see these new specimens. A Parus ! 
a Finch ! a Muscicapa ! — where does the last bird go 
to in winter ?" A. new Rat ! a new Bat ! — God bless 
us ! I am almost crazy ! I am glad that Harlan is 
off — for now I shall come in for the four-footed 

There is scarcely any use in beginning with my 
yarns in this letter. I proceed to the subject — this 
lies nearest my heart, ^ou must pa}' me a visit 
this autumn ; you must just pay me a visit. Bring, 
if you can, the wife and son; you shall all be 
welcome — doubly so ; but you, I must see. You 
cannot go to Florida — there is no use to go in the 
winter : you must finish your next volume of 
biography. Stay in the Atlantic States this winter, 
and when the Blue Bird carols his earliest song in 
Spring — then off to Florida, Arkansas, or the Pacific. 

I shall write you again in a couple of days. 
Eeinember me to young Jostle. 

Your friend, J. B. 

136 John BacJiman. 

The invitation was accepted by Audubon and his 
son, John Waterhouse Audubon. 

We find many letters during this next year (1834), 
from botanists, especially from Oemler, an enthusias- 
tic German, at that time residing in Savannah, Ga. 

Bachman tells us that on one occasion they were 
botanizing together; his companion strayed away, 
and at length he discovered him, on his knees, thank- 
ing God that he has found a new plant. 

Dr. Harlan and Charles Pickering, of Philadel- 
phia, were already among his correspondents in 
America, and letters from scientists in England and 
Germany, all attest to his successful labors in Botany, 
Natural History, etc. 

Dr. Harlan wrote in 1834 : 

I am honored by placing you among the most 
favored of my correspondents, and feel myself 
abundantly indebted to you for the interesting facts 
and valuable hints contained in your last. Excuse 
the liberty I have taken in reading several extracts 
to the " American Philosophical Society," at its last 
meeting. Your letter attracted much attention, and 
gave rise to an animated discussion. I found that 
you were already very favorably known to Dr. 
Vaugn, and other members. I shall not fail to 
profit by your observations in my next edition of 
the " Fauna Americana." 

In 1835, Audubon was in Europe, publishing his 
" Birds of America," while Bachman was at home 
closely studying, in his hours of recreation, the skull 
and the habits of the Buzzard and Alligator. 

Labors in Natural History. 137 

The friends had much to communicate to each 
other. Occasionally, Bachman discovered a plant 
or bird that had not been described, and mutual re- 
joicings followed. 

He wrote enthusastically to his friend : 

My Dear Audubon — " Your Second Volume is 
decidedly superior to the first — it is indeed beauti- 
ful. The plates of the Water Birds do you credit. I 
rejoice over them. You will reap fame, if not 
wealth. Friend Audubon, you must not praise me 
so much in your articles. I give you fair warning. 
I have no objection to being referred to with regard 
to the habits of some birds, but, anything more, 
will induce me to score you well * * >i< 

Your references to your learned friend John Bach- 
man, D. D., are all humbug." 

In September 1836, a mild form of cholera was 
prevailing in Charleston. Audubon had just re- 
turned from Europe to America. 

Charleston, Sept. I4th, 183G. 

My good old friend — How greatly do we rejoice to 
hear of your and John's safe arrival in America ; 
although not a Prophet, you predicted the very day 
of your arrival. There is no one w^hose societ}^ in 
these days of anxiety and distress, would be more 
dear to me, and prove a greater cordial to my de- 
jected feelings, than yours, but as it is, we cannot see 
you for several Aveeks to come. 

I received, yesterday, your first letter by mail, and 
to-day, another by steamer. Your very fine dog 
arrived safe, and is now kicking up a dust with 
" Nell " in the yard. The latter is a perfect beauty 

138 John Bachman. 

and staunch as a rock, in fact, she runs like the wind 
and outdoes herself. 

Do try to keep, at least, a pair of pigeons for nie, 
I greatly long for them. Dr. Wilson and sister 
Maria, have several elegant mocking-birds for you. 
I hope that, by this time, you have received a list 
of the birds collected for you. * '^" * * 
I am not surprised at your having gone to Philadel- 
phia. Who could help it, when a dozen new birds 
were in the way ? Several are already published by 
Wilson, Cooper and Swainson; these sureh^ you will 
be allowed to figure — you did the same for Wilson. 
The new birds, they will probably describe in some 
Journal — all this is fair. But after that, surely, they 
will let you figure them. 

Capt. Day is on the Florida coast. I gave him 
your large gun and a keg of whiskey, to put up 
specimens. Dr. Leitner is among the " Keys." I 
gave him my own gun and whiskey for specimens. 

W^ith regard to Florida, nothing will be done by 
Naturalists for at least two years. Your Indian 
friends, the cut-throats, have scalped almost every 
woman and child soutli of St. Augustine, save those 
on Key AVest. They liave burnt and plundered 
every plantation ; and although they will probably 
be, in a great measure, put down next Winter, yet 
there Avill, undoubtedly, remain many small preda- 
tory bands that would make no bones of scalping 
an Ornithologist secundum artnn ; and would ask no 
questions wliether he was the friend or enemy of 
William Fenn. Of Texas, I think better; and 
thither, or along its borders, you may, I think, 
venture — for the Texans are our friends. I suppose 
Genl. Gaines will keep the Comanches quiet. 

Now for the health of the city. We are very 
anxious about the Cliolera. We know not what a 
night may bring forth. 1 will defer until to-mor- 

Cholera. 139 

row Avhat I have to .say on tliis distressing subject. 

^ 5p ^ -r^ 5J< 

Thursday, September loth. — The Cholera has, 
indeed, made its appearance among us ; there are 
mitigating circumstances about it ; yet, being a new 
disease, and destructive of the life of certain descrip- 
tions of persons, it has cast a deep gloom over our 
city. The disease is confined principally to our do- 
mestics, and the irregular among the whites. My 
own servants have nearly all been down in succes- 
sion. My daughter Eliza was slightly attacked, but 
now she looks as blooming as ever. As regards my 
own health I mend but slowly from rheumatism. 
If I were not so much engaged and exposed, pro- 
fessionally, I should recover faster. I am weak in 
my limbs, and, like an old man, I use a cane. 

I shall write you again by this boat. All unite 
in love to you, and to John. 

Your friend, J. B. 

Charleston, Sept. 17th, ISof). 


I commenced writing to you on tlie day of the 
steamboat's arrival, and added something' to my 
letter every day ; when finished, the girls blotted 
the superscription in clapping on their new fangled 
wafer ; and then sister Maria laughed at us all. As 
the steamboat does not go for an hour, and many 
tlioughts are crowding into my mind, I write to you 

The reports of Cholera are daily more favorable — 
strange that in a city like ours — far South, and 
crowded with subjects, it should not have carried 
ruin and misery along with it. But it has proved 
far otherwise ; as yet, not a respectable, temperate 
white, that I know of, has died ; and even among 
our domestics, the most careless and irregular onlv. 

140 John Baclnnan. 

have been cut off. Some, incleed, are of the opinion 
that it is not Asiatic Cholera. I think otherwise. 
The state of collapse can scarcely be mistaken ; and 
those who have died have, nearly all, fallen into 
this state before death. Fortunately the disease did 
not appear among us, until it had traveled through 
the North and West. Our people were not much 
alarmed, but remained at their posts, watching the 
first symptoms, and checking the disease before it 
had put on an alarming character. During my 
confinement I read everything that I could find 
written on tlie subject, and became a quack myself. 
Dr. Harlan's reports I found most sensible, and his 
writings have raised him, m my estimation, as a 
Physician of excellent judgment. My family are 
all well again, excepting my mother's white servant, 
and she is better. Relapses in this disease are ex- 
ceedingly common ; even a cup of tea, or a piece of 
bread, sometimes causes the patient to lose ground. 

:}« Hj >K ^ 

Before I go further, let me tell you that one of tlie 
evils of my late indisposition, from which I recover 
but slowly, is, that I cannot hold my hand steady ; 
after writing for ten minutes, I have to lie down 
and rest a little. 

While you are detained at the North, there are 
some matters to which it would be well for you to 
attend. Find out in what Cjuantities and how far 
North our long-billed Curlews are found and 
migrate. William Cooper ought to permit you to 
figure the "Mourning Warbler." He did not say, 
" No," when I asked him, but he did not sa}^ " Yes." 
He was under obligations to Bonaparte then, and 
he distinctly said that if that work w^as discontinued, 
he would be willing to give you all the assistance 
he could render. I am not sure that you have, as 
yet; figured the Grey Owl of Maine. You must find 

Has the Cholera. 141 

out his habits and those of the Hawk. The Fresh 
AVater Ducks we can easily get here; and you need 
not trouble yourself about them in the North, but 
remember the Sea-Ducks you must procure in Bos- 
ton and New York. When you come among us. we 
will talk over every bird in your collection, and at 
the end of your next Letter-press, you will show 
what true greatness is, by doing all in your power 
to correct ever}^ error, and thus to place our Orni- 
thology where it should be. ***** 

Our young Anhingas and Caraca Eagles are in 
elegant order. Come and converse with them. 

Tell John that we will make the time of his ab- 
sence as short as possible — a little while longer, and, 
God willing, we shall take you both by the hand. 

I must close, or the boat will be off. In great 

I remain as ever, your friend, J. B. 

John W. Audubon was at this time engaged to 
Maria R., Dr. Bachman's eldest daughter. 

To Audubon : 

September 23d, 1836. 

As you in your last complain of not hearing from 
us, I will begin a letter to-day, and add to it to-mor- 
row, before the steamer leaves. >i= * * 

My family, since I wrote you last, have been well, 
except myself. * * My system was debilitated, my 
exposure was great, and it was not surprising that I 
should get an attack of Cholera. I was ill and then 
had a relapse. Dr. Wilson, fortunately, happened 
to be in the house at the time. The second attack, as 
it was attended with great coldness of the extremi- 
ties, was rather more alarming than the first. It 
yielded, however, to the usual remedies. I am now 

142 John Bachman. 

sitting in my study, with your tlirce large Books of 
Engravings near me, while I am writing. 1 sup- 
pose that I shall not be allowed to go out for a 
couple of days ; I am a little salivated, and what is 
singular enough, I have lost all my lameness. Hith- 
erto I had been obliged to limp and use a cane, and 
now I walk without one, and feel no pain. So you 
may set it down that Cholera cures Rheumatism. 
But I have talked enough about myself. * * 
Let me once more urge you not to come to Charles- 
ton before you are bidden ; sister Maria, who is at my 
elbow, adds "before you are welcome,'^ so you see you 
might stand some chai:ice — and John too, of being- 
turned out of doors. I have taken a great fancy to 
Edward Harris,* could you not bring him with you, 
and let him join our old fashioned party? What a 
treat ! Please inform me what has been his success 
with the Curassow birds ? My Pheasants had several 
fine young ones, that could fly to the top of the 
fence. When I was sick, alas! they suffered the 
dogs to kill them. The Cormorants are in fine 
ord'er. ^ * - - - ^- 

J. B. 

September 30th. 

We hope soon to have it in our power to remove 
the embargo, and the old ship and tight little 
schooner mav sail boldly into port, without lying 
at Quarantine. In other words, you and young 
John may, ere long, come and feast your appetites 
on specimens of tough beefsteaks, dry rice and 
hominy. I think I see you coming from town as 
hungry as hunters. "Bless my soul," say you, "I 
am almost starved to death," and the beefsteak like 

*Edward Harris, Esq., Morristown, N. J. 

A im of Fare. 143 

a tougli hide of an alligator will rise like Banqno'.s 
ghost before you. I fear that you will both be as 
lank as Greyhounds, the week after your arrival. 
But I forget that one of the party can easily feed on 
love, and that we have besides, at least, a dozen jars 
of old birds in whiskey, which may serve for the two 
old naturalists. The truth is, the country folk are 
afraid to come to the market — vegetables are forbid- 
den ; lish and shrimps are thrown into the dock. 
A¥e will have to stay our appetites by talking about 
birds. Oh, what a feast ! Why we ^\\\\ devour every 
bird on the Pacific, beginning at the great Condor 
and leaving off at the new Humming-bird — whicii 
I hope has been re-discovered. " * The 

birds have arrived after a long passage. The 
pigeons, you know, I am fond of. Dr. Wilson longs 
for a Jay, and I will send it to-morrow. The boxes 
oi 2:)lates have arrived ; they are, to my eye, the most 
beautiful engravings that I have ever seen. '^ - 

I am getting quite well again, and will soon be 
able to out-walk you. Sister Maria has not been able 
to paint much for you, within the last month, hav- 
ing been principally engaged in nursing the sick. 

Old friend, I have not heard from you for some 
time, where are you, and what are you doing ? 
Your friend, 

J. B. 
From Miss Martix to J. J. Audubon. 

Charleston, October 28th, 1836. 

My dear Friend — Your welcome letter did not 
reach Charleston for more than two wrecks after it 
was written. 

Dr. Bachman has quite recovered his health and 
activity, and is anxiously looking forward to the 
time of your arrival. We have given our neighbors 
warning not to be alarmed if they hear a tremendous 

144 John Bachman. 

uproar in our quiet domicile, as we know that when 
you arrive, his expressions of joy will be rather 

When you are seated by a comfortable fire in our 
little study, I shall show you something that will 
prove to you, that, though absent, you were not for- 
gotten by your friend, John Bachman. 

I do not wonder at the satisfaction of your sub- 
scribers with your Third A'olume, it is, indeed splen- 
did ! You must be merciful to me, and excuse me 
for having done so little for you in the painting line, 
I hope soon, to assist you. When you are here, I 
will be quite at vour disposal — I will be your aman- 
uensis, painter or any thing else that will be an 
assistance to you ; not forgetting the darning of socks^ 
wdiich you know was my employment on a former 
occasion, during the absence of your good wife. My 
sister, and all the young folks send their love. 

Accept, my dear friend, the assurance of the 
w^armest regards of 

Your affectionate friend, M. M. 

P. S. — Dear Audubon — I have notheaid that any 
persons recently arrived here, have taken Cholera, I 
doubt if you and John would be subjects for it. I 
believe that this letter will not reach you at the 
North — and 1 hope that you will come ahead of it. 

Have you the common House Wren? if not order 
it, and let us compare it with ours now here, which 
may be your Wood Wren ; I am anxious about this 
matter. I wrote you at Baltimore and shall proba- 
bly not write again. 

These are awful times in money matters, but of 
this, you will hear enough when we meet. Every 
one, nearly, has failed, but the Parsons and OrnitJio- 
loglsts — Why? Because they have nothing where- 
Avith to fail. In haste, Your friend, J. B. 

Liberty Hall. 145 

Audubon his wife and son, accompanied by Mr. 
Edward Harris, arrived in due time. 

Hunting, fishing and botanizing, weve the order 
of the day. 

The plantation of Dr. C. Desel, his hospitable 
home, Liberty Hall, Goose Creek, near Charleston, 
was a favorite resort for the friends. 

It is a cold night in December. Let us throw 
back the heavy chintz curtains, and look within. 
Great blazing logs are in the open fire place, light- 
ing up the whole room. The antlers of deer captured 
in the chase, adorn the walls. The hunters seated 
around the fire, are jubilant over the splendid luck 
of the day. 

It is an interesting, happy group before us ; Au- 
dubon, with his massive forehead and his waving, 
dark hair — slightly touched with gray — worn long, 
and flowing over an ample, white collar ; his nose 
aquiline; his mouth well formed ; and his beautiful, 
eagle eye full of animation. Bachman, with his 
noble countenance, and genial flow of thought and 
word. Mr. Edward Harris, the tall, refined, cul- 
tivated gentleman. Dr. Wilson, as trim as shiny 
boots and well brushed coat could make a successful 
practitioner. John W. Audubon, with his compact, 
well developed body, and his handsome face — brim- 
ful of fun. To-day he has killed his first deer, and, 
according to ancient usage, was blooded — that is, 
was marked on the face with the warm blood of the 
newly killed deer — (a ceremony decidedly more en- 
joyable to the old hunters, than to the one under- 

146 John Barhman. 

going the ordeal). The}' have ah'eady partaken of 
a substantial supper, and are talking over the sport 
and triumph of the da}'. Two noble bucks and a 
doe have been brought Irome, swung.across the front 
of the saddles. According to plajitation etiquette, 
the deer taken belongs io tlie fortunate hunter, 
whose shot brought him to the groui]^l. Therefore 
a fine supply of venison and game is secure, not 
only for the Pastor's table, but for #ie sick and deli- 
cate in his flock, wlio will share iiuthe spoils of the 

John Audubon is making a sii^gestion — that 
every one of the company be 're([uired to -prepare a 
verse for a poem to be sung to a time- honored 
Southern ditty : " Clare dc kitcJieu, old JVjlh, young- 
folks, OldViryinny nebber tireJ' The proposition is re- , 
ceived with applause. This is Thursday night : Sat- 
urday the Parson must be at home, therefore the poets 
must finish their verses by Friday evening. The vote 
is given, by acclamation, that .Jolm Audubon, who 
has a reputation in that line, should be the minstreL 
The next morning is a rare occasion. Quite a little 
company have asseml^led from a neighboring plan- 
tation. At the wide-open door, appear tlie ebony, 
smiling faces of Sambo, March and otliers who kept 
the deer stands, etc., yesterday. 

Without delay, .John Auchdjon appears in his 
hunter's dress, liorn at his side and violin under his 

The first verse is laudatory of the hospitality of 
the Master of tlie Ceremonies, Dr. Desel. In tlie verses 

A Short-tail Rat. 147 

that follow, the hits become more and more telling, 
until the sound of the fiddle strings is almost 
drowned by the laughter and applause. The whole 
company join in the chorus. John Bachman's verse 
describes a long, tedious, and remarkable ride taken 
by young John on a hard-going horse. 

" Young Jof^tle^ he mount on " Mossa " big //oss, 
And he look so fine, we took him for Boss, 
But soon he began to ride more sideway than straddle, 
And to beg for a sheep-skin to put on de saddle. 
CAo/v^.s-— Clare de kitchen, ole folk, young folk. 
Old Virginny, nebber tire." 

The closing verse was composed by young John 
himself — it told of the Parson's search after the long 
coveted ** Short-tail Rat" and his jo}^ over the dis- 
covery of the same. At that moment the minstrel 
pauses, and points with his violin-bow above the 
door, and there, to the great surprise of all, hangs a 
veritable rat, with the prescribed short-tail, quite 
visible ; young John's clippers having secretly trans- 
formed the tail of a common long-tailed rat into the 
new species. 

The slumbers of all that night were deep and 
sweet. On the morrow the friends take leave ; and 
with light hearts our party beguile with merry chat 
the homeward journey to Charleston. 


18 3 7. 

Bachman and Audubon. 

Union between the families of bachman and audubon — 


WE find from the following letter, that the union 
between the families of Bachman and Audu- 
bon, was at hand. 

Charleston, May 14th, 1837. 

My Dear Audubon : I write you in haste, and am 
uncertain if this letter will reach you before you leave 
Louisiana. You are aware that I have to visit the 
North the latter end of this month, on business con- 
nected with the Church ; this you know, must be 
attended to before Ornithology, or even Matrimony. 
I go in a day or two to Norfolk, and hope to be 
once more in Charleston by the latter end of June, 
which I conceive to be about the time when I may 
look for your visit to us. 

We are all well. I am terribly hurried, and my 
letter must be short. I have received the fullest in- 
formation about the Flamingoes ; and the eggs 
themselves, I hope to get before your return. I also 
found the nest of the Carolina Titmouse, etc. '^ * 

You are aware from a former letter, that your 
Quadruped skins were wrecked off the Florida Keys. 
By good fortune they were recovered and sent back 

Family Training. J 49 

to me — but awfully soaked with salt water. They, 
however, enabled me to judge what they are. * * 
All join me in best wishes. 

Your friend, 

J. B. 

John W. Audubon and Maria R. Bachman, were 
united in marriage in 1837. They joined the rest of 
the Audubon family in New York, and in August 
sailed in a packet ship, bound for Liverpool. It 
was only after a long and tedious voyage, that thev 
reached their destination. 

This first break in the Pastor's family circle weighed 
heavily on the parents' hearts. Bachman wrote to 
Audubon, " I have looked forward to this event 
very much as a man does to a funeral." Rapid 
ocean transit, the cablegram, etc., have now brought 
the land beyond the Atlantic comparatively near to 
us. Fifty years ago it was far different. 

We have had already glimpses into the parson- 
age. Maria, the eldest daughter, at the time of her 
marriage was twenty years of age, and Eliza, the 
second daughter, nearly nineteen. There were? 
besides, five younger daughters and two sons — in all, 
nine living — and five in God's acre. 

The pastor of St. John's believed in faithful, 
early training and instruction — yet, there were few 
rules for family government. One we remember — 
no child absent from morning prayers without an 
excellent reason, was permitted to sit at the large 
breakfast-table — the culprit had a seat assigned at a 
little side-table. By a singular accident, however, if 

150 John Bachman. 

it were an accident, when a child was late at prayers, 
the study door was left a little ajar, and the lazy 
little sinner often slipped in softly, and knelt at 
mother's or father's side, knowing well, that if the 
" Amen " had not been said, all was safe — the 
morning kiss was still secure, and the hated seat at 
the side-table left vacant. Father, with a twinkle in 
his eye, would say," " Escaped bij tlie skin of i/our 
teetli'' Later, mother gave her gentle admonition, 
" Child, did you remember when you were lying in 
bed this morning, that your father was up and hard 
at work ? — don't be late again." Who could resist 
such an appeal ? Father would take the children 
to his bee-hives and repeat to them from " Watts' 


" How doth the little busy bee, 
Tniprove each shining hour." 

He would tell the interested group, how the lazy 
drones were stung to death by the busy working- 
bees, and show us how tlie instinct of animals 
amounted almost to reason. When the children 
asked if the working-bees were not excessively cruel, 
he would smile and quote : '• If a man nnll not work 
neither sliall he eat,^' and counsel the little people to 
take tlie busy ant and not the lazy drone, as a 

In the flower garden there were two large aviaries 
connected by a covered way. A daughter remem- 
bers that when she was a little child, something had 
sorel}' ruffled her temper; her father snatched her 

The Home. 151 

up in his arms and carried lier to the aviar}'. The 
gentle birds answered his call ; but the PouUr- 
pigeona extended their breasts, and, with sullen 
notes, strutted about. X little story followed, that 
interested the child, and made her feel greatly 
ashamed of her ill temper. l^Iany such lessons he 
a'ave to the children in a series of stories, that 
appeared later in one of the religious journals. 

He was the chief promoter of fun and frolic 
among: the children ; often he would come home at 
twilight, and before the lamps were ligJited, call to 
the eager little people to join him in a Deer Hunt. 

He, as the swift old buck, took the lead in some- 
what leap-frog fashion, and the children who repre- 
sented the pack of hounds, followed in close pursuit. 
Before lono- the tired deer was brouo'ht to bav ])v 
one of the hounds jumping nimbly, on his back; 
then, above the din, a hunter's horn would be heard, 
to announce that the merry chase was at an end. 

This was the home so dear to the Pastor of St. 

To HIS SON-IN-LAW, John W. Audubon, in London. 

Charleston, August, 1837. 

My dear John : I suppose that by this time you 
are hard at work doing something to keep want 
from the home ; and this, they say, will keep the 
little "God of Love" from flying out of the window. 
Maria, I am sure, will be prudent and industrious. 
Her education and habits are such as will, I think, 
render her an assistant, as well as a blessing, to you. 
A part of my boy Ws prayer every night is, that 

152 John BacJiman. 

the Packet in which sister Maria sailed might arrive 
safe. Say to your brother Victor, that I thank him 
for his letter, and will answer it soon. By this time, 
Maria may have seen half of London. We expect 
to hear all about it soon. 

Yours affectionately, J. ]>. 

Charleston, August IGth, 1837. 

My dear Audubon — Although you wrote me a 
long letter before you left New York, yet I did not 
receive it until last Sunday. I call it a good 
letter, because it was not a few lines written in haste ; 
but a careful, thoughtful letter. My family have 
been writing by every packet; but, if we are to judge 
from the letters we receive from England, they are 
likely to be very irregular and long on the way. * "^^ 

I flatter myself, that by this time you are all safe 
in England ; usefully employed, and therefore 
happy. Since you left us, there has been a dulness 
and lethargy, as if something were wanting. We 
are trying to fill up the time: Eliza and sister 
Maria are studying German. Botany has been com- 
menced by all the girls, and they are devoting more 
time to music than formerly * * * "^ 

I liave been intolerably lazy since you left us, con- 
fining myself entirely to my parochial duties, and 
scarcely doing anything else — seldom even writing 
ix letter. I have put up for you a few birds in rum. 
Your list, alas ! cannot be filled here ; but I will do 
what I can * * By the way. Judge Lee 
lias just informed me of a fact which agrees Avith 
my theory, that Buzzards obtain their prey by 
sight, not by scent. In the upper part of this State, 
a hog had fiallen and died under the edge of a bank ; 
the stench was so great, that it nearly drove the 
visitors from their boarding house ; and yet the 
Buzzards' noses were not keen enoucrh to find it out. 

The Home. 153 

My application to the Matanzas has been success- 
ful — a gentleman went forty miles, and procured 
the nest and two fresh eggs of the Flamingo. The 
eggs are white, the size of that of the goose. I shall 
send one of them to you, and the other to friend 
Brewer. I have a pair of young ones on the way, 
in order to ascertain the time required to bring the 
bird to full plumage. 

My good wife's health has failed somewhat, since 
you left us — I trust that it is only temporary ; the rest 
are quite well. I must say, that the children are 
obedient, and very studious. Eliza is drawing, and 
devouring French Books. 

I am multiplying pigeons of various kinds ; they 
noAV amount to nearly one hundred. Our love and 
best respects to ^Irs. Audubon, and love to John and 

Your friend, J. B. 

To Mrs. Bachmax : 

Baltimore, May 25th, 1837. 

My Dear Harriet : xVlthough I only wrote this 
morning — on board of the steamboat ; yet, as I shall 
])robably have but little time for some days to come, 
I write you again while I am resting from the 
fatigues of a very unpleasant day. I shall just go 
on at random, and write down any thing that may 
occur to me, that may, perhaps, amuse you ; trying 
to avoid a re})etition of what I have said this morn- 

In going to a new place, or to any old one, which 
we have almost forgotten, a thousand new thoughts 
come into the mind, and we are able to draw com- 
parisons, and are furnished with facts for specula- 
tions and theories. But I did not intend to moral- 
ize, only to have a good-natured chat. '-'" * * * 

154 Jo] in Bachman. 

The morning after my arrival in Philadelphia I 
was curious to know how the old Philadelphia 
Market looked : I had always pronounced it to 
be the best in the little world that I had seen. So I 
rose at five o'clock in the morning, as I have inva- 
riably done since I left home, to saunter by myself 
and make observations. '^ "^^ * There have been 
alterations in the arrangement of the market houses ; 
they have been broken in upon by big streets, and 
no "longer present tlie continuous line that tliey once 
did — as if stretching from the Delaware to the 
Schuylkill. " ^ '^ 

I was forcibly reminded of old scenes of twenty- 
three years ago. There stood the identical one- 
horse carts, filled with churns of milk, eggs, butter, 
•chickens and vegetables. The old, fat, huckster- 
ing, independent, sturdy dames looking out keenly 
for the pennies ; ready to drive a cart or a bar- 
gain — and having at all times a Roland for an 
Oliver — they had neither grown older, nor uglier, 
nor more refined. I suppose that the}^ are the 
daughters of the old stock, for I did not stop to trace 
pedigrees. They had the same keen, careless look, 
and had no doubt the same minds and souls of their 
mothers, now gone down to the dust, and, whether 
it was the old or the young Rip Van Winkle, the 
features were so alike, that they appeared the same 
to me. I priced some bunches of radishes, the 
answer was : " A bunch for a fip, and a levy and a 
fip for four bunches." The markets have greatly 
risen in price. Fish Avere fine and abundant. For 
the first time, south of Boston, I saw several enor- 
mous Halibuts — a fish which Maria will recollect. 
The old fish-women had the old rudeness, slang and 
impudence; and very ugly words were dealt out 
upon rival hucksters. 

I tried to remember to keep for you the bill of 

llsit to Pliiladelpliia. 155 

IVire, placed before every little group at the dinner 
table of the " Marshall House.'' When there is a 
company of a couple of hundred persons, a great 
variety of dishes may be furnished at no material 
additional expense. We never had a dinner with- 
out fried frogs — I forgot to taste them — the ladies 
say they are great delicacies. Lobsters are abun- 
dant — in this they are before us. 

The fashion of bolting down food is a striking 
characteristic of our nation. You sometimes cast 
a slur upon me for my propensities in this v/ay ; 
but I can assure you, nine-tenths of these gentle- 
men can give me a long start and beat me. 
I had a fancy for lobster for dinner on the steam- 
boat, to-day, so had the lady sitting beside me, 
but my neighbor on the other side, as he took his 
seat, quietly broke off two enormous claws of a 
lobster near him, and laid them beside his plate, 
others followed suit, and when I called to the waiter 
to furnish us, his answer was: *' There is none left;" 
all this while, my philosophic neighbor had enough 
beside him to give dyspepsia to an alligator. He 
seemed to go on the old principle : " Every man for 
himself" and even a lady's desires could not move 
him. There is considerable improvement in the 
breeding of colts and horned cattle in this country, 
and I am sometimes under an impression that it 
might be well to extend the advantages of this kind 
of culture to the higher animals. 

I have not, as yet, had very favorable specimens 
of fine weather. The Spring is cold and backward, 
still there is a bright green and richness in vegeta- 
tion, that is peculiarly j)leasant to me. Tulips are 
scarcely out of flower, and Hyacinths are in perfec- 
tion. I confess, to my shame, I did not go to see a 
single garden in Philadelphia, nor once looked at 
the improvements in the direction of the Schuylkill ; 

15() Jolin Bachmau. 

reserving all this for my return visit. The weather 
was unpleasant. Pickering and Peale will be away 
soon, and I spent most of my time at the Academy 
of Natural Sciences and the Phik)Sophical Hall. I 
found Nuttall friendly — after all tliere is as much in 
the manner of men to attract interest, as there is in 
the spices that render food pahitable. In the Phil- 
osophical Hall, I frecjuently took a seat in the old 
chair of Dr. Franklin ; I could not avoid thinking, if 
knowledge could be communicated in this short 
Avay, by touch or sympathy, what a world of Philos- 
ophers' Franklin's old chair would have produced ! 
I was invited yesterday, to meet old General Clarke, 
the companion of Lewis. He is now very aged and 
in failing health ; he is on a visit to Philadelphia, 
accompanied by an interesting and beautiful family. 
I was quite pleased with him. He is intimately 
acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Audubon, and spoke 
in raptures of her talents, and his beautiful taste. 
He seemed to retain his recollection of past events 
in a remarkable way. Old Dr. Kurtz and his 
family send kind regards. Love to your mother, to 
tlie children, and to all dear friends. J. B. 

To Audubon: 

Charleston, Nov. 7th, 1837. 

My dear Friend : From a letter which Dr. Wilson 
received a few days ago, I find that you are troubled 
at not having received one line from me. However, 
by this time, your heart is at ease, as my two former 
letters ought, in all fairness, to have been long ago 
with you. Now I do not mind the frettings of old 
fellows like ourselves, particularly when there is a 
good wide ocean between us — as the storm subsides 
and the calm comes, they sit down and say, "Why 
was I offended ? " 

The moment your letter came to hand, I went 

Preparing for the ^ynod. 157 

down to an honest Captain, who promised to spare 
no pains or expense to procure the Flamingoes. I 
think that we shall certainly succeed ; and, in good 
time, the Flamingoes will reach you. Sister Maria 
found your drawing of the Marsh-hen, sent it in a tin 
box through Mr. Berthaud, with the Qgg of the 

Poor Captain Coste lost a whole barrel of birds 
in rum, overboard in a gale. He brought, however, 
safely, another containing two large White Herons — 
Louisiana Herons, several Terns, and Florida 
Cormorants, which will go b}^ the '' Nimrod," with a 
couple of Red-headed Vultures. 

This moment, daughter Maria's letter arrived ; the 
girls are devouring it, and I shall wait awhile 
patienth^ till my turn comes. 

The Synod of my Church is about to meet. 
They are scouring and scrubbing and white-wash- 
ing. They have turned me out of the Study to put 
it to rights ; and have put my books and papers in 
elegant confusion. '"^ - - * 

Send me some bird-lime, I want to replace the 
birds intended for Earl Derby, which were lost on 
the passage. If you can conveniently procure three 
Pheasants send them — further this deponent saith 
not. ^ .. ^ ^ ^ ,c 

Sister Maria, says she commenced a letter to you 
to-day, (I have my doubts), but had no time to 
finish it ; she has been putting up curtains and 
other nick-nacks to accommodate some old bachelor 
parsons, who will soon be with us to grace our 
drawing-room. Love to Mrs. Audubon, Maria and 
John. Good night. - - - "^^ 

J. B. 

158 John BacJiman. 

To Edward Harris, Esq., Morristown, N. J. 
CiiARDESTON, December 12tb, 1837 

^[y Dear Sir : It is a long time since I have heard 
from or of you, and I am induced to write to inquire 
liow you are, and how this uncertain world, with all 
its changes and chances, has used a^ou since we met. 

The Audubons I hear from frequently ; they 
write once a week. When we shall see them again, 
is somewhat uncertain. I think, however, in the 
course of eigliteen months. 

The work will soon be completed, and I feel con- 
fident that it will be, on the subject of which it 
treats, the best in the world. When anotlier edition 
of the Letter-press is published, I wish that we could 
persuade Audubon to correct the mistakes that were 
unavoidable in his previous volumes, and the l)ook 
Avill for ages remain a monument to his industry 
and establish his fame."^' 

I have heard that you intended to visit the South 
again in the S})ring. If so, surely you will not pass 
us by witfiout a call. I shall then be quite at leisure 
to go with you into the country. The old range is 
still there and ])lenty of deer. I had not, for a long- 
time, taken a gun into my hand, till a few days ago. 

"'■Ill the notes to the Letter-press, Aiidul)on cheerfully cor- 
rected the uuaroidahle errom. 

'^Ibidem. The birds represented in the o5th plate of my 
large work (Audubon's Bird's of America), I have since 
found to l)e the young of the Yellow Poll Warbler. My 
friend, Dr. Baehman, and myself discovered the error soon 
after tlie publication of my first volume on Ornithology. 

"/6. Plate 55. I most" willingly acknowledge the error 
under which I labored for many" years, in believing that 
this species, and the Sylvia pidmannn oi "Bonaparte" are 
distinct from each other. To the sound judgment of my 
friend, John Baehman I am indebted, for convincing me 
that the figure given by the Prince of Caiiino is that of our 
present bird at a different period of life, therefore M'itli 
different plumage." 

A Good SJiot. 159 

On my return from Aiken, a friend met me at the 
Railroad, insisted on my spendinganight with him. 
Nothing loth, I concluded to do so. On our way to 
Jiis house we took a deer-drive. A large doe came 
by me like the wind, and I felt sure of killing her; 
but my l)orrowed gun snapt. and the concussion 
made the animal leap ; but luckily the second barrel 
brought her down. I thought it quite an exploit, 
circumstanced as I was ; and this is a beginning and 
end of all in that line, that I have attempted for six 
months. Come to us, and I will give you up my old 
sure stands where you can kill deer, ivifJi or witJiouf a 

In Natural History I work by fits and starts — at 
long intervals, as inclination, health and duties per- 
mit. I have before me a box full of Rocky Moun- 
tain Quadrupeds. When I shall have time to de- 
scribe them, I know not. but tliink ot o-oino^ to work 
in a day or two. 

In the meantime, if you can procure for me half a 
dozen of your New Jersey squirrels, stuffed, you will 
confer a favor on me. This Genus I have found in- 
tolerably troublesome, and when I have finished it, I 
fear that others will have to correct my blunders. 
Should you be in New Jerse}- this Spring, you will 
have a fine cliance of watching the warblers on their 
Northern passage. There are a few designated by 
Wilson, that we cannot find * * * * 

My family all beg to be kindly remembered to 
you. Yours with great esteem, J. B. 

The next letter tells of failing health. 

To AuDUJiox. 

Charleston, October 2d, 1837. 
My dear friend — I yesterday received your very 
welcome letter, the first after your arrival in Lon- 
don, also one from John and Maria. * '■' * 

100 Joliii Bachinan. 

I hope to be better next year, but this Summer I 
liave suffered much from debiHty — have strong 
doubts whether I shall ever regain my strength. 
The least fiitigue puts me in bed, and I lose my in- 
dustry and energy ; if I am alive, T shall take much 
exercise on horseback, which agrees well with me. 

I have had John's old gun brushed up in fine 
style, I tried her at a mark several times, and am 
astonished at the precision with which she carries 
large buckshot. * * "'^ " * 

I have done nothing this Summer in Natural 
History, but have been trying to coax back my. lost 
health, as yet, have not succeeded, to any great extent 
in doing so. '• - - '-^ "^ 


Visit to Europe. 
Arduous duties— broken health — letter to vestry asking 


SH(JRT excursions into the country, with daily 
exercise on horseback, partially restored the 
health of the Pastor of " St. John's." 

During the Summer and Fall of this year, (1836), 
Strangers^ Fever became an epidemic in Charleston, 
and his strength was taxed to the utmost, day and 
night. In the Winter following, a destructive fire 
swept over the city, leaving many of his flock home- 
less and in poverty. Full of active sympathy, he 
exerted himself far beyond his strength, in collect- 
ing and distributing alms to the most destitute. It 
was said of him, " He was a father to the jwor ;" "and 
ivJien tJie ear heard him tlien it blessed him.'' But 

162 John Bad on an. 

the spirit was stronger than the body, and when the 
warm days of Spring returned, the prostration of 
strength that had alarmed his friends the previous 
year, returned with double force. His Vestr}^ insist- 
ed that, under the circumstances, it was unw^ise for 
him to cling to his work. His physicians prescribed 
a long sea- voyage and entire rest from labors too 
arduous in his debilitated condition. 

Audubon urged him to join him in London, where 
the best medical advice would be at hand. " Come 
to us,'' \\Q wrote: ''The sight of our ha}rpy children, 
Maria and John, will do you more good than all tJie 
doctor's medicine ; and 'uii/ old darling Lucy (Ins tvife), 
is a great nurse : drive up to Oxford street, where you 
u)ill find a warm welcome.'' 

May 28th. Dr. Bachman addressed a letter to the 
President and A^estry of St. John's Church : 

** I deeply lament tlje causes which have led to 
this communication, but a sense of duty requires 
that it should not be withheld. 

" You are aware of the decline of my health, and 
my inability to perform ray clerical duties. Believ- 
ing that a clergyman should withdraw from his 
charge whenever he ceases to be useful, I should not 
hesitate to send you my resignation as Pastor of the 
Church, were T not buoyed up by my physicians 
with the hope that I may yet be restored to useful- 
ness and health. They have all, without exception, 
recommended a long sea-voyage. I have been in- 
formed that you are also favorable to these views. I 
have, therefore, after mature reflection and prayer, 
ventured to ask you to permit me to susj^end my 
labors until December next." 

Ldfcrto the Vestry. 163 

He suggested two plans by which his pul})it might 
be supplied during his absence, and closes thus: 

" From m\^ \^estry and Congregation T have expe- 
rienced unceasing acts of kindness from the day of 
my arrival among you ; and now, in the time of de- 
bility and declining health, your sympatliy renders 
you dearer to me than ever. 

" I came to you a young man ; I have dwelt in 
your midst for more than twenty-three years. " -^ '^; 

" That Being who for so many years gave me 
strength to perform, almost unremittingly, the 
duties of ni}'- calling, now has seen fit to visit me 
with pain and debility. In whatever manner God 
shall order my lot, I shall bear with me to foreign 
lands and through life the remembrance of a people 
who have aided me in gratifying m^; desire for knowl- 
edge, and in the promotion of benevolence and 

I remain, with sentiments of respect and affection, 

Your Pastor, John Bachman. 

A favoral)le response was [)romptly accorded by 
tlie Vestry and Congregation. Tlie}^ united in urg- 
ing him to hasten the preparations necessary for so 
long an absence from his home, and assisted him, 
wherever possible, in arranging for a speedy depart- 
ure. As no Lutheran minister Avas available, many 
of the ministers of other Protestant denominations, 
witTi great kindness and unanimit}^, consented to 
occupy the pulpit of St. John's alternately, during 
the absence of the Pastor. 

On the ord of June, 1838, he preached his fare- 
well sermon, from 1st Thessalonians, v. Chapter, 

164 John Bachman. 

lltli to 13tli verses: " Wlicrcfore comfort yoitrsclre-'i 
together and edify one another, even as also i/e do.'' 

The afflicted of tlie congregation were very near 
the heart of the Pastor. 

" The poor require comforters, the sick and tlie 
afflicted need consolation. Will you not perform 
these duties for your absent Pastor? * "^^ 

Of late a calamity has befallen our city, perhaps 
greater than any that has hitherto visited it, and 
many families are left without homes and in poverty, 
with only the sympathies and charities of the 
benevolent to help them. I have engaged in the 
work of ministry, until arrested by disease. Alas, 
I can do no more ! I leave the afflicted of this Con- 
gregation with you, and with the Father of the 
fatherless and the widow's God. 

I came to you in youth, a stranger, and now for 
more than twenty-three years I have been intimately 
associated with you all. I have enjoyed a large 
share of your affection and friendship. Though the 
pleasant memories of those early days are now 
darkened by declining health on my part, and on 
yours by clouds of sorrow — afflictions which have 
rested heavily upon your domestic circles, and be- 
reaved me of a multitude of my flock, yet, the place 
amid w^hose hallowed scenes I am lingering, and 
whose peaceful shores I am reluctant to leave, is en- 
shrined in the sanctuary of my heart. It is con- 
nected with associations that are imperishable. It 
is the birth-place of the brightest of my hopes, and 
the scene of the most interesting of my labors. 

My friends, I have served you long. Whether 
these labors have ministered to your edification and 
conviction, and to your comfort and refreshment, I 
cannot tell ; nor, is it needful for me to know. I 
leave the result of my ministrations in the hands of 

FarewcU Sermon. 165 

that Spirit who searcheth all hearts, and before 
whose judgment-seat all secret things shall be re- 
vealed. But to-day, on this solemn, and perhaps, 
by the providence of God, the last occasion that I 
am permitted to address you. I beseech you all, by 
tlie mercies of God, young and old, rich and poor, 
master and servant, to close with and accept the 
offers of the Gospel. " Seek ye the Lord tvhile He may 
he found, call ye upon Him while He is near^ '* Let 
the wicked forsake his luay, and the unrighteous man his 
thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, and He will 
have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He luill 
abundanthj pardon. * '^ 

My friends, we have lived long together in 
harmony and peace, and we part in friendship and 
affection. Need I beseech your prayers for your 
absent and solitary Pastor, or your friendship for 
those whom circumstances command him to leave 
to your care. 

For all past kindness, I thank 3^ou ; I would use a 
more expressive word, could I find it. 

Conscious am I of many imperfections. Would 
that 1 had performed my duty to you better ; yet, if 
I have neglected or injured any of you, it was not 
from design, and I pray your forgiveness. 

I have come to you, to day, with a body weakened 
by disease, but with affections as warm as that of a 
father or a brother. 

For many months to come, others will break to 
you the bread of life. Should any think that the 
step I am taking looks like a desertion of duty on 
my part, I would say that I have never left you, 
but in obedience to the calls of the Church, or in 
ministering to the comforts of my aged parents. I 
have stood by you during the desolation of Fever 
and Cholera. I have performed my ministerial 
duties even when exhausted nature admonished me 

166 John Bach man. 

that rest was needful. Now I part from you only when 
my ministrations would be of little service to you, 
and with the cherished hope that I may return to 
you under happier auspices, to labor with you, and, 
if it please God, to rest with you, at last, in your 
peaceful sanctuary. " ^^' '"^ ^ 

Be at peace among yourselves, and may the 
peace of God abide upon you all. 

Amen and farewell. 

The long sea-voyage across the Atlantic decidedly 
benefited the invalid, and when the vessel reached 
Liverpool he stepped on shore Avitli comparatively 
a firm step. 

Hastening to London, he drove to the Audubons' 
home late in the evening. He was dismayed to find 
the door-knocker tied up, and the moments seemed 
like hours as he waited for admittance. Audubon 
opened the door himself, and instantly explained the 
door-knocker mystery — "God bless us! Welcome 
friend Bachman! To-day, our daughter Maria has 
made us grandfathers. The little Lucy and her 
mother are doing bravely — to bed now, old fellow, 
to-morrow, you shall see them.'' 

Although benefited by the long sea-voyage, it 
soon became apparent to the watchful eyes of his 
friends, that he needed medical treatment. 

Two eminent London physicians, Drs. Benjamin 
Phillips and Robert Carswell, were consulted. We 
find an elaborate opinion, several pages in length, 
describing Dr. Bachman's case. 

"He had been threatened," they write, "With 
spinal congestion, the result of chronic rheuma- 

Scotland and the Lakes. 107 

tism. Tlie attack of cholera and tlie remedies used 
had saved him from spinal congestion." 

New scenes, and the ministry of beloved friends, 
in addition to medical skill and care, soon sufficiently 
restored the health of the invalid, to permit him to 
undertake, in company with Audubon, a short jour 
ney to Scotland. 

Tlie friends travelled leisurely through this 
picturesque country. They visited Edinburgh 
Castle, Holy rood, and other points of interest, that 
the wizard, Walter Scott, the friend of Audubon, has 
made familiar to many readers. They found stored 
up in the libraries and museums vast funds of 
information and entertainment; but Audubon 
wisely drew his friend away for a time, from tliese 
too fatiguing and exciting attractions, to the lovely 
Lake region. Here almost as free as the birds, they 
lingered awhile, before presenting their letters of 
introduction, that would open to them noble and 
hospitable homes. A few weeks later, xludubon was 
spreading before delighted eyes his life-like, full-sized 
paintings of American Birds. The enthusiasm of 
the friends in Natural History, their general infor- 
mation and genial manners, attracted favorable 
attention. Many pleasant acquaintances were 
made, and some firm friendships formed, while in 

The intelligence of the people, the interest taken 
in Natural History, the admiration called forth by 
his first Volume of American Birds, and the facili- 
ties offered for the publication of his great work, de- 

168 John Bachman. 

cided Audubon to remove his residence from Lon- 
don to Edinburgh. 

The tour through a healthful, interesting and 
romantic country, with such a companion, did much 
to restore Dr. Bachman to his wonted health of body 
and spirit. On his return to London, his physicians 
and friends confidently predicted a permanent, if 
not speedy, restoration to perfect health. 

A large folio volume, ''Journal of European Travel,^' 
carefully expanded from notes, and illustrated by 
roughly drawn sketches, was a memorial of his 
habit of close observation, and his industry in re- 
cording the same. The book would have given us 
interesting facts and valuable personal reminiscences 
in connection with this period of his life. Unhap- 
pily, during the late war between the States, this 
volume shared the fate of the rest of his valuable 
library. He had sent his books from Charleston 
to Columbia for safety, and when the latter city was 
burned, the flames did not spare his many rare 
volumes. Nothing remains to us of the ''Journal of 
European Travel,'^ but the brief pencilled sheets 
from which the Journal was expanded. These, how- 
ever, give us glimpses into his red-letter days — days 
full of intellectual pleasure and profit. The animals, 
birds, fishes, insects and fiora of the old world, were 
all new to him, save in books. As he visits halls of 
learning and eleemosynary institutions, as he listens 
spell-bound to grand sacred music, and as he ex- 
plores the Art Galleries containing the master-pieces 
of the old artists, his soul is stirred within him. 

Switzerland. 109 

Voices of strange melody reach and touch his heart, 
the echoes of which are to linger in his memory dur- 
ing his long and checkered life. 

From ///.s- PrncUlrd Nofr--^. 

Lake Constance. 

We had been winding among the hills for some 
hours, now ascending slowly a mountain, and then 
descending with locked wheels into the valleys, 
and now passing groves of fir and of birch, that 
seemed to have their roots in the shelving rocks and 
to cling to the sides of the mountains, when, sud- 
denly, upon descending a hill, a lovely scene met 
my eye. For some moments I gazed without utter- 
ing a word. Before me lay a village with red-cov- 
ered roofs and four or five spires, nestling, as it were, 
on the bosom of a smooth and romantic lake. 

The hill-sides on my right were covered witli 
vineyards — the vines ladened with nearly ripe clus- 
tering fruit. The gently rising hills on the left, 
were studded with white cottages, surrounded by a 
variety of fruit-trees. The lake extended for many 
miles, and mountain upon mountain rose from its 
bosom. The nearest to us was covered with green 
foliage; the more distant appeared blue, and the 
farthest off seemed to rise among the clouds of 
heaven, and were covered, as far as the eye could 
reach, witli snow. 

The passengers exclaimed, "' Der Bodensce" Here 
then was Lake Constance, presenting a scene of gran- 
deur and loveliness, that no lover of Nature could 
witness without feeling entranced. The sun is just 
setting as I write these notes, and the very heavens 
seem to be in unison with the scene. The clouds, 
on a blue ground, have a rich and ruddy hue, and 

170 John Bachman. 

the outer edges are wreathed with silver. The 
houses situated on the very banks, cast their images 
on the ahnost unbroken mirror before me. The 
only bird that is flitting over the lake is the Euro- 
pean " Stormy Petrel.'" The representative of a 
storm seems out of place on this lovely, placid lake. 

I looked behind me ; how different the scene I 
Dark and murky clouds are hanging over the snow- 
clad Alps, and the setting sun renders the wintry 
scene more desolate. Fogs from the thawing of 
the ice arise from the valleys, and the rugged rocks 
seem to extend their arms to protect the stunted 
plants that are growing in their crevices. Now, as 
we enter the little harbor of Constance, the sun is 
casting his last shadows on the lake. The boat is 
moving slowly. The sun seems to set almost behind 
the waters, rising and sinking at the moment of his 
departure, and leaving a golden stream on the edges 
of the neighboring cloud, reminding me of the last 
hours of a just man's life — calmly, as the setting- 
sun, his day closes, and the bright light of his ex- 
ample is left to edify and to gladden the world. For 
half an hour after sunset, the golden hue lingered 
on the waters. It softened and faded, and ray after 
ray so impercej^tibly left the unruftied wave, that 
my meditations were only broken off by the land- 
ing of the boat, which reminded me that darkness 
had set in. 

Freyhurg, September 18/// ; Presented myself yes- 
terday afternoon before the Zoological Department 
of the Society of Naturalists, at Freyburg. 

A great crowd hastening to this meeting' 
thronged the doors. Tlie members with some diffi- 
culty effected an entrance. 

The applicant for membership must prove that 
he has published something in Natural History. 

^\y German friends had preceded me and notified 

WWt Naturalists at Freybarg. 171 

the Society of ray intended visit, and I was received 
with ^reat kindness, 

The largest hall in Freyburg had been elegantly 
decorated for the occasion. Five hundred members 
were present. 

The ladies were accommodated in the gallery, and 
the other visitors had a place assigned them on the 
ground-floor. It was a very orderly meeting. 

First, a long report was read by the Secretary in 
German, followed by a lengthy Eulogy on a de- 
ceased Officer of the Societ}^ Then several Essays 
were read, viz : " T/ie Structure of the Earth ; " " Water 
Falls ; "- with illustrations, etc. I was most pleased 
with one from Professor Martin, of Munich, on "The 
American Indian,'' intending to prove that the 
mounds, and especially the traces of fortifications 
and architecture found in Mexico and South 
America, gave evidence that they were the work of 
n different people and a former age. It was a sensi- 
ble ])roduction and remarkably well delivered. 

A band of music from Berne, consisting of forty 
musicians, played during the dinner, which lasted 
from one P. M., to four in the afternoon. The din- 
ner was excellent — the best that the country could 
-jifford ; but it lasted entirely too long for me. Toasts 
were drunk, first to the Grand Duke, and then to 
the German Naturalists. A short speech evidently, 
prepared before hand, preceded the toast, at the 
•close of which all rose, and the "Lehe hoch'' (long- 
live) was repeated three times, with great enthusi- 

The dinner, including wine, cost each member 
the small sum of seventy -five cents — a vast difference 
on similar occasions, in England and America. 
After dinner, the Naturalists took a recess of an hour 
or two. Repairing to a mountain on the borders of 
the city, we ascended, by tortuous windings, till we 

172 John Bach man. 

gained the summit. The scene was picturesque, as 
group after group — to the number of a thousand, 
were seen winding their way around the mountain. 
All appeared to be gay and happy. 

On the eve of his departure from Freyburg, Dr. 
Bachman sent a communication to this Society, a 
fragment of which has been preserved. It reads thus: 

In the course of a tour tlirough Europe for the 
benefit of health, I was so fortunate, as unexpectedly 
to have been with you at your interesting anniver- 
sary meeting. 

In compliance with the wishes of the members of 
your Society, and with the desire to draw the Nat- 
uralists of both countries into a closer bond of union, 
I consented to lay before your Association an ac- 
count of the progress, and the present state of Natural 
Sciences in the United States. I intended to make 
only a verbal statement, as well as I was able, in 
your own language. I find now that my limited 
time compels me, before the next meeting of your 
Society, reluctantly to leave this delightful retreat 
of men of science of Germany and Europe. 

Permit me to express to you the profound emo- 
tions of pleasure, with whicli I witnessed, for the 
first, and probably, the last time in my life, so large 
a meeting of eminent men, Avho were laboriously en- 
gaged in the cause of science. I felt it a privilege, 
even for a day, to sit down with those who were in- 
vestigating the wonderful works of nature's God. 
How delightful to me was the change, from the perils 
and solitude of a long sea voyage, to your romantic 
hills and beautiful Himmelricli. 

In a letter from his friend, John G. Morris, D. D.» 
dated a few months later, we find the following: 

Humboldt. 173 

"I received your letter per Great Western, and 
thought that you would not object to an insertion of 
a part of your letter in lite Lutheran Observer, with- 
out your signature. 

I have been asked several times who at the Xatu- 
ralists Reunion was the one poor representative from 
the United States? 

"One of the City papers (Baltimore), says in a short 
notice of that meeting, "T/ie United States,'^ were 
represented by the Rev. Dr. Bachman, of Charleston, 
S. C, the first Ornitliologist in this country. ^^ 

J. G. M. 

The land of Luther had its special attractions 
for the Pastor of St. John's. He regarded each 
scene connected with the successful labors and con- 
flicts of the Chief Reformer, with keen and almost 
sacred interest, and the healthful life of its people, 
in communion with Nature, was congenial to his 
simple taste. 

Arriving at Berlin, he found a great pleasure 
awaiting him, for Humboldt was there. Dr. Bach- 
man tells us, " I was a youth of sixteen, when Hum- 
boldt visited America. Wilson, the Ornithologist, 
procured for me an invitation to be present at a 
reception given in Philadelphia to this eminent 
philosopher and naturalist. During my stay there, 
I saw him ever}^ day. Before leaving, he inserted 
in his note-book the names of his acquaintances in 
Pliiladelphia, and, to my surprise, mine was in- 
cluded on the list." 

174 John Bachman. 

Ill 1838, Dr. Bachman gratefull}' records, '^ Hum- 
boldt was the first to receive me in Berlin, and to ex- 
tend to me civilities that made me feel at home 
among the men of science in the Father-land." 

In 18()1), thirt3^-one years later, at the request of 
his German fellow -citizens, in Charleston, he de- 
livered the address commemorating " The Centennial 
Anniversa7'i/ of the birth of Humboldt.^' 

Reluctantly he left German}^ for France. While 
in Paris all his unfavorable S3aiiptoms returned ; the 
French physicians called in, took a less hopeful, and 
less correct, diagnosis of his disease, than that given 
by the English practitioners. Hastening to London, 
he placed himself again under the care of his former 
physicians, Drs. Phillips and Carswell, and slowly 
recuperated. Happily, congenial recreation and 
pleasurable excitement were abundantly provided 
for him. He had letters of introduction to the 
venerable Earl of Derby (grandfather of the present 
Earl). The Earl was an enthusiast in the study of 
Natural History, and greatly interested in America, 
as a new field opened for investigation. He had 
invited Dr. Bachman, on his return to England, to 
visit him at his beautiful country-seat. 

As soon as strength permitted, he gladly availed 
himself of the privilege accorded him, and spent 
days examining the Earl's large collection of animals 
and birds, botli living and stuffed. As he roamed 
througli extensive, highly cultivated gardens, and 
leisurely studied the Flora of many lands, his step 
became more elastic, and a healthier glow began to 

Visit to the Earl of Derby. 175 

tinge bis cheeks. At parting, the Earl presented 
him with several rare books. 

While in London he received the thanks of the 
Zoological Society for tlie present of thirty-six skins, 
(eighteen Mammalia and eighteen birds), from North 
America, which were deposited in the British 
Museum. At a General Meeting of the Society, held 
on the 6th of December, writes the Secretary, John 
Barlow : " You were balloted for and elected as a 
Foreign Correspondent of the Zo(")logical Society ot^ 

From John Edward Gray, 

The Eminent Naturalist in Charge of tJie British 

British Museum, Nov. 1st, 1838. 

My Dear Sir : I have sent you the Volume 
promised. I hope that it may interest you, and 
furnish you w^ith a little information respecting the 
Continental Collection. Hoping soon to see more of 
your labors — as it is to you, that I look for a good 
account of the American Mammalia. I expect soon 
to print my synopsis of Mammalia, and will send 
you it directly it appears, but I consider it my duty 
tirst to attend to the wants of the Collection under 
my charge, so it may be delayed sometime. Wish- 
ing you a very pleasant voyage. '^ ''' * 

J. E. Gray. 

We trace tlie movements of Dr. Bachman through 
the following letter written by his daughter Eliza 
(afterwards Mrs. Victor Audubon), to her younger 

176 John Bachman. 

sister, Harriet Eva, who was then on a visit at a 
plantation, near Charleston. 

December 11th, 1838. 

"Do not think, mv dear sister, from my long silence, 
that I did not appreciate yonr i welcome letter. I am 
in debt to all my correspondents ; and, when I tell 
jou. that my dear Ria, (sister Maria), is included 
among the number, you may console yourself. The 
truth is, I have been busy and felt unsettled. Tlie 
drawing and dining rooms, have, been newly 
painted, so we have occupied the jminting room, as it 
has long been called. Although the appearance of 
the room is now changed, yet, I am constantly re- 
minded of the time when the Audubons were here, 
and when I spent so many happy days with our 
dear Ria. I look at the seats, once so agreeably 
tilled, with a feeling of regret that those who occu- 
pied them are so far away from us. 

A letter has just been received irom Ria, written 
in excellent spirits ; but, alas ! she gives us little 
hope that we shall soon see her. Mr. Audubon's 
letter-press, has occupied him a much longer time 
than he expected, on account of the number of new 
birds which have been discovered, and he now 
fears that those delightful episodes, which seemed to 
give universal pleasure, will have to be omitted 
from want of space. 

Ria writes that the little Lucy already weighs 
seventeen pounds ; she will soon, at that rate, 1)e a 
weight to carr^^ 

The Audubons are delighted with Edinburgh. 
If the cit}'' equals the descriptions I have so often 
read, it must, both in point of natural scener}^ and 
agreeable society, be far superior to the far-famed 
London, with all its bustle and humbug. The latter 

Return from Europe. Ill 

may better suit the ricli and the gay, but for those 
Avhose circumstances are moderate, and wliose 
pleasures are rational, Edinburgh must be far pref- 
erable as a place of residence. The Audubons' 
house is delightfully located and exceedingh^ con- 

We are now looking, with the greatest anxiety, for 
the arrival of father; the last few weeks have seemed 
like so many months. Is it not astonishing how 
slowly time creeps on, when we have pleasure in 

Although the last accounts from our dear father, 
are not very encouraging, yet our hope is, that on 
his return to us, the rest and the quiet of home, may 
do much toward restoring him to perfect health. 
My earnest prayer is, that he may regain his wonted 
strength and activity, and long be spared to us ; for 
we have learned from sad experience, how essential 
his presence is to our happiness. 

Thursday 12th: We received letters from father 
to-day, which give more encouragement with regard 
to his health. He was to sail in the "America," 
which is dailv expected '^ ^" * * * 

M. E. B. 

After an absence of eight months from America, 
\)\\ Bachman reached home January, 18o9. 

The joy of family and flock, at his return, was not 
without alloy. They were disappointed to find his 
health still very feeble. The congregation proposed 
that an assistant should be secured. At the recom- 
mendation of the Rev. Dr. Mayer, the Rev. William 
N. Smith was engaged by the congregation of St. 
John's as assistant minister ; and for several years, 
he rendered acceptable service. 

178 Jolm Bachman. 

During the year 1839, Victor G. Audubon, the 
eldest son of Audubon, arrived in America, visited 
Charleston, and spent months in Dr. Bachman 's 
home. Before the close of his visit, he became en- 
gaged to Mary Eliza, Dr. Bach man's second 

Friends who had watched from childhood, the 
strong and ever increasing bond of affection between 
the sisters, rejoiced that they were to live again 
under the same roof. A letter from Aububon ex- 
pressed his great pleasure at this second union 
between the families. Bachman's reply was charac- 

Your congratulations at this double union in 
our families are right and proper, nor ought I to be 
so selfish as to wish to retain my children around 
me when their happiness requires a removal ; but 
somehow, the event wdiich causes you so much 
pleasure, has a contrary effect on me. I am a Phi- 
losopher in most things, but in this case Nature is 
too strong for Philosophy. The girls have good 
husbands, who, I am sure, will take care of them ; 
but to me the parting with them I feel to be a very 
great loss ; but I will try not to complain about it, 
unless others wish me a joy wdiich I do not feel, and 
which I would be a hypocrite to acknowledge. 

I was glad that I was compelled to be absent when 
Eliza left me, and was obliged to preach in the 
country twice a day for a fortnight, and had thus 
incessant occupation, without too much time for 
thought. When I came home, however, the holidays 
had scattered the rest of my little flock. It was so 
lonely, it almost gave me another attack of dys- 
pepsia. But let us talk of other matters — of your 

The Quadrupeds. 179 

synopsis for the " Small Edition of the Birds' Tlie 
size and the plates, etc., please me veiy much. Your 
synopsis is the best I have seen, though that is not 
saying- very much, for the majority I think bad. I 
am glad that you have given us this, it will save 
you much trouble, and j^our readers much per- 
plexity. *t* ****** By the time four or five 
numbers are published, you may turn over the work 
to your sons; but, till then, you should carefully 
review every page and plate. The next thing, 
will be to get subscribers. This would be pur- 
gatory to me ; but it is necessary for success. While 
drumming up subscribers, you may obtain speci- 
mens for the Quadrupeds. These creatures — the 
majority of them nocturnal, and living in conceal- 
ment — are not so easily obtained as bnxls ; but there 
are fewer of them, every species is abundant in some 
locality, and they neither migrate nor fly. You 
cannot do without me when you come to the ani- 
mals I know full well — so you will have to come 
and pay me a visit soon. ^ ^ * * 

Love to my daughters and sons, ^ ^ -^ '^ J. B. 

The following girlish letter is from Harriet Eva 
to her newly married sister, Eliza (Mrs. Victor Au- 
dubon) : 

Charleston, February, 1838. 

I have just returned from a visit to the country. 
Last year when I came home, you were the first to 
greet me. I cannot realize that you have indeed 
left us. You don't know how we all miss you. 
Father, mother, and all, are continually sounding 
your praise. ^^ ^' ^^ ^^ ^ ^ ->^ 

We are sorry to hear that our dear Ria has 
suffered so much. She has not written to us since 
Christmas. I often wish that I could take a peep 

180 John Bachman. 

at you and our dear Ria, as you talk over the 
old times. I Avant to see little Lucy. Susan H. R. 
sends her love. I heard her say to her aunt, 
Mrs. R., that you played on the guitar and sang de- 
lightfully ; and that Ria, with all her accomplish- 
ments, knitted father's socks. Tell Ria the shawl 
she knitted for me has been greatly admired. Write 
soon, we are all anxious to hear from you. 

Your loving sister, Harriet. 

To Audubon : 

Charleston, September 13th, 1839. 

*T congratulate you all on your safe arrival, in 
spite of storms, calms, and hurricane. But after 
this, don't speak of the tardy progress of Charleston: 
Packets. I beat you both ways, and had pleasant 
passages withal. The voyage from England to 
America, along the Northern coast, is seldom as 
pleasant, and never much shorter than the Southern 
course, especially in winter. We sailed to Latitude 
20°, and then took the trade winds, and it reminded 
me of sailing on a mill pond — so smooth was the 
water. ^. >i= i= * * >? 

I am sorry to hear that you have not been quite 
well ; as we get to be old boys, aches and pains will 
come. Let us both agree not to complain. My 
health has greatly improved, and my f^imily are all 
\vell ^ ^ "^ ^ 'fi 

I am glad that you are about to do something 
with regard to the " Sviall Edition of Birds" But 
jire you not a little fast in issuing your prospectus 
of The Birds and Quadrupeds, without having num- 
bers of both works, by which the public can judge, 
of their merits? My idea, in regard to the latter, is 
that you should carefully get up, in your best style, 
a vojume about the size of ''Holbrookes Reptiles.'^ 

Birds and Qaadrupeds. 181 

This would enable you to decide on the terms of the 
book. I think that two thousand subscribers at 
$1.00 for each number, might be obtained. But it 
must be no half-way affair. 

The animals have never been carefully described, 
and you will find difficulties at every step. Books 
cannot aid you much. Long journeys will have tO' 
be undertaken. Several species remain to be added, 
and their habits ascertained. The drawings you 
can easily make, if 3'ou can procure the specimens. 
I wish I had you here, if for only two days. I think 
that I have studied the subject more than you have. 
You will be bothered with the Wolves and the Foxes, 
to begin with. I have two new species of Bats and 
Shrews to add. The ^Yestern Deer are no joke ; and 
the ever-varying Squirrels seem sent by Satan him- 
self, to puzzle the Naturalists. >h =!. * 

liove to all. It will be a terrible disappointment 
to us, if Maria, John and the little Lucy do not come 
to Charleston this winter. J. B. 

January 13th, 1S40. 

"I think that your "Birds of America,'' will be 
a standard work for centuries; ere then, we will be 
among the planets studying something else. The 
descriptions in the " Small Edition of Birds," will 
have to be abridged — your " worthy friend " and 
other humbugs may be left out to advantage. I 
am not at all surprised at your success in getting 
subscribers; but let me say, c/Yies are not the only 
places to obtain them. Birds sing and nestle among 
the groves of the country — The planters and farmers 
are the men to become subscril)ers. An intelli- 
gent planter from the up country said, a tew days 
ago, that if the right person would thoroughly 
canvass the whole State of South Carolina, he would 

182 John Bachrnan. 

insure three hundred subscribers to the ''Small 
Work." Old Jostle would be the man, and when 
his legs tailed, the Young Jostle should go forward. 

Get the Editors to notice 3^our work — this is a 
puffing world — from the porpoise to the steamboat. 

When we meet, Ave shall talk about the })artner- 
ship in the quadrupeds. I am willing to have my 
name stand with yours, if it will help the sale of 
the book. The expenses and the profits shall be 
yours or the boys. I am anxious to do something 
for the benefit of A^ictor and John, in addition to the 
treasares I liave given them — and this is all I can do. 

Love to Maria. Bring her to us before the S[)ring. 
This lovely climate is a cure for sore mouths or sore 
hearts. Tell dear Eliza, her boy AVilliam is study- 
ing a Latin Grammar, and perhaps may one day be 
able to write his thoughts to her in Latin — for his 
penna, pemKr, are dinging in my ears morning and 
niglit. He is a good boy. 

Employ yourself now in drawing every (piadruped 
you can lay your hands upon. If you can find me 
a live Ermine, buy it in New York. I must once 
more examine and study its change oi pilage. 

Don't flatter yourself that the quadrupeds will be 
child's play. T have studied them all my life. We 
have much, both in Europe and America, to learn 
on this subject. The skulls and the teeth must be 
studied, and color is as variable as the wind; down, 
doAvn in the earth they grovel, while we, in digging 
and studvino- mav o^row old and cross. Our work 
must be thorough. I would as soon stick my name 
to a forged Bank Note as to a mess of Soupmaigre." 

Your friend, 

J. B. 


Passing Under the Rod. 



XTRACT from a letter written by Rev. John !>. 
Haskell, at White Hall, S. C. while arranging Ills 
grandfather's letters for Biographg. 

To C. L. B. 

" You have no idea what a mass of letters I have 
collected. I am happy in my work wandering in 
days that lived ere T was born, and drinking in the 
pure spirit of my noble grandfather. 

" In prayerful thought my heart turns to the ohl 
roof-tree, under which so many of our blood have 
shed their tears, exchanged their smiles, and walked 
in paths of duty and love. Feet so still and quiet — 
resting now: but which, one day, will leap uj) in 
tlie perpetual youth and strength of eternal life, to 
walk in the streets by tlie River of Life, and to dwell 
forever in the City of Gold.'' 

Extracts from some of the letters alluded to, will 
be found in the chapters that follow. 

In 1839, Dr. Bach man's fears were thoi-oughly 
aroused with regard to the failing health of bis 
oldest daughter, Mrs. .John Audubon. The Audu- 

184 John Bachman. 

bons had returned from Scotland, and were living 
in New York. In his letters to his son-in-law, he 
deprecated a Northern winter for the invalid, and 
urges her husband to bring her South. 

January, 1840, they arrived in Charleston. The 
household treasure, the father's companion, and the 
mother's right hand, was restored for a season to 
the home of her childhood. 

Beloved friends welcomed the invalid, and skilled 
l)hysicians Avatched over her. Her husband " hoped 
against hope ; " but the practised eye of her father, 
could not be deceived. 

A German author has said, " Every man in the 
course of his life is called upon to offer up to God 
his Isaac." This call had now come to the Pastor of 
St. John's. 

To Victor G. Audubon : 

Charleston, May 10th, 1840. 

My Dear Victor : " I am very sorry that I have 
nothing favorable to write you with regard to Maria. 
I was at her bedside a few moments ago ; her pulse 
is feebler. * >!< * * * 

We have had many heavy trials of late, but none 
equal to this. I have had philosophy, and. I trust, 
religion, to stay me under all other calamities ; but 
here I stand unhapp}^ and bewildered. I trust that 
dear Eliza will be strengthened to bear up under 
this visitation. We must look upwards to the 
Higher Poiver — to God for support ; all is under the 
direction of His wisdom. Maria's health had seemed 
to me for months on the decline. When the 
physicians advised a change to Aiken, we took her 
there and clierislied a hope that pure air might 

Illness of his Daughter. 185 

benefit her. Yet John's favorable reports did not 
satisfy me ; for he has, all along, seemed almost 
blind to her true condition. I went up to see for 
myself; the first glance told me that she was much 
worse. John is not only devoted, but he is the best 
nurse I have ever known. In Aiken she was with 
the kindest of friends ; but she longed to be at home, 
and we have brought her back. * * 

Tell Eliza to summon all her fortitude and her 
trust in God. Concealment of facts leads frequently 
to deeper and more poignant sorrow than if the 
w^hole truth had been, at once, revealed. Maria's 
physicians encourage no hope — and we are but 
hoping against hope. 

Need I remind her husband, parents and sisters, 
that in the event that will cloud our prospects with 
deep gloom and bitter sorrows, there are yet conso- 
lations. Think of a future state. Remember her 
obedience, kindness, goodness, and above ali, her 
faithfulness in serving her God. 

I accompanied your father yesterday to the 
funeral of our friend, Dr. Rham. How melan- 
choly ! I pity his absent family with my whole heart. 

How much I regret that the situation of my own 
family on his arrival was such, that it was impossi- 
ble for me to take him to my home, as I had in- 

Mrs. Martin is not expected to survive beyond a 
day. We are all greatly fatigued ; but are better in 
hei^lth than could be expected, under present pain- 
ful circumstances. AfFectionatelv, vour father, 

J. B. 
{Enclosed in the same.) 

Audubon to his son Victor. 

My Dear Victor : John Bachman has told all 
that can be said with regard to our beloved Maria's 

186 Jolin BacJiDiaiL 

condition. I can assure you, as lie does himself, that 
this last week has been one of deepest sorrow. I go 
to the city — anywhere, I scarcely seem to see or to 
care for any one — and the return home only aug- 
ments the pains of my poor heart. * * * t^ * 

Alas ! who can foresee or foretell I In a few days, 
my fears tell me that we shall have to convey to 
you sad tidings ; yet I still hope that God may spare 
our Maria. 

God bless you all. Take care of ^Tama, of Eliza 
and the babe (Harriet) ; little Lucy is well. 

Affectionatelv, vour father, 

J. J. A. 

Mrs. Jacob Martin (Mrs. Bachman's mother) had 
been for years an honored inmate of her son-in-law's 
home. Possessing a singularly rounded character, 
as firm as she was gentle, thoughtful, yet not over- 
careful, her presence exercised a wholesome influ- 
ence in her daughter's family. In fact, the Pastor of 
St. John's rejoiced that the children's grandmothers 
should both dwell under his roof. It was good for 
the children, from infancy, to learn the joy of service 
to those who had not too many joys left on earth. 
The Pastor's own reverent bearing to the aged 
mothers, was naturally adopted by the young mem- 
bers of his family ; and who can estimate the bless- 
ings that flowed into the current of these young lives, 
through even the silent teachings of these dear, aged 
saints. The unquestioning submission of such as 
these, is both a prayer for and a benediction upon a 
household. His own mother had finished her Ions 
prilgrimage, and had already entered "the life where 

Death in the Pastors Home. 187 

death is not," and to-day, Mrs. Martin is passing- 
through " the valley and the shadow of death." 

A few days later, the mourners laid her venerable 
form to rest in the cemetery of St. John's — to await 
the resurrection morn. 

Mrs. Audubon, by the advice of her attendant 
physicians, was not informed of the death of her 
aged relative. She lingered on through the hot 
months of July and August. A^ery gently, in love, 
the cords that bound together the dying and the 
living were unloosed ; the Angel of Suffering, did 
his part in preparing all for the parting hour. 

One day in September, the sufferer exclaimed, 
with a far-off look in her eyes, " I see (xvandmotlieT ; 
she is in heaven.'" The soul of the dying may have 
caught a glimpse of the other shore. Then with 
uplifted eyes, she slowly repeated : 

" Vital si)ark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, O quit, this mortal frame ; 
The world recedes ; it disappears. 
Heav'n opens on my eyes; my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring, 
Lend, lend your wings ; I mount, T fly : 
O, grave where is thy victory ? 
O, death where is thy sting ? 

A few days later, and the lips that had praised 
her Maker from childhood, were silent in death. 
The record is, Maria R. Audubon, beloved daughter of 
John Bachman, and wife of John W. Audubon, died 
September 2Srd, 1840, aged 23. 

The Pastor of St. John's entered into his study, 
and closed the door, even to his nearest and dearest, 

188 John BacJiman. 

saying, " Give me one day for the luxury of grief." 
Then he came forth, and cahnly took up the duties 
of life. 

The following November, the South Carolina 
Synod convened at St. Paul's Church, Newberry. Dr. 
Bachman was the Presiding Officer. The text he 
selected for his sermon is suggestive — 1 Samuel iv. 
13. ^' And ivhen he came, lo ! Eli sat upon a seat 
watching ; for his heart trembled for tlie Ark of God" 
The supporting power of grace was lifting up God's 
servant above personal sorrows. The safety and 
prosperity of the Church, not his ovrn griefs, were 
pressing upon his heart. 

In the day of bereavement the tender hearted Pro- 
fessor of theology, Dr. Ernest Hazelius — a brother 
born for adversity, stood at his side. 

Many others, according to their own fashion, sought 
to cheer him, and his heart did not refuse to be com- 

A great calm had entered into the soul of the 
Pastor of St. John's ; God was preparing him to pass 
again, " under the rod." 

In October, Mr. .John Audubon and his little 
daughter, Lucy, accompanied by Miss Martin, sailed 
for New York. They found Mrs. Victor Audubon 
already sadly changed. Perhaps the shock of the 
unexpected separation from her idolized sister — the 
nine months of anxiety, and, at last, the end of all 
earthly hope, may have caused her illness. 

It was immediately concluded that her husband, 
and Miss Martin should without delav take tlie 

Illness of his Secojid Daughter. 189 

invalid to Cuba. It was not tbouglit advisable to 
select the route via Charleston ; there were too many 
recent sad memories in the early home ; she was to 
stop there on her return. 

Her fetlier wrote to Mr. A^ictor Audubon: 

Charleston, (3ctober 27th, 1840. 

Dear A'ictor — By your letter, you were to sail on 
Wednesday last; if so, by our calculations, you must 
now be somewhere off Charleston or Savannah. 
There have been fair days, and I hope that you are 
all free from sea-sickness. I found, in the latitude 
of the Bahamas, Summer weather in December. 

We are, of course, not free from anxiety ; but we 
all hope and pray for the best. A ship- voyage may 
be beneficial to Eliza. I have all confidence that 
this, together with travelling and visiting milder 
regions, will materially improve her health. * * 

( )n the same day he wrote to his daugliter. 

My dear Eliza : We received your few lines, and 
all feel truly anxious for your recovery, and return 
to us in good health. I was at your age, much 
worse than you are. I had broken a blood vessel, 
was confined six months to my bed, and was given 
over by Dr. Rush, and physic. A voyage to .Jamaica 
and a subsequent residence in Charleston, affected a 
cure — without medicine. Be cheerful and content. 
Look, as I always try to do, on the bright side of 
the picture. Keep a good conscience ; trust in your 
God, and all will he well. * * * 

Your affectionate fatlier, 

J. B. 

190 John Bacliman. 

From Audubon, to his daughter-in-law, Mrs. 
Victor Audubon. 

Minnie's Land, New York, (1840.) 

My sweet child : I am sorr}^ indeed, that you liave 
not felt willing or equal to write us more than you 
have done. 

I trust that the weakness you suffered from is 
passing away. You cannot well conceive how anx- 
ious we are to have you again under our own com- 
fortable roof. Although you are in a delicious 
climate, yet, '' Home, sweet Home," is best for the 

May God direct all your prescriptions and medi- 
cines. May He grant 3^ou all assistance, take away 
all fears, and return you to us as happy, bright and 
blooming, as when it was my delight to call you, 
"■ my beloved Bosy" 

Love to Victor and to my friend, Maria Martin. 
Your affectionate father, J. J. A. 

Judge Dunkin, (afterwards Chief Justice), wrote 
to Dr. Bacliman from his plantation at Waccamaw, 
near Georgetown, S. C, 'Tay us a visit, bring your 
daughter Jane with you and leave her with us ; she 
needs a change of air and of scene." They accepted 
the invitation. 

On his return to Charleston, he wrote to his 
daughter Jane, at Waccamaw. 

Charleston, December 26th, 1840. 

''J hoped, my child, to have wished you a "Happy 
Christmas" on the very day, but I did not come 
home between the two services, so have losi the mail. 

A Primitive Stage Coach. 191 

This is Saturday, and you know 1 shall be very 
busy. I begun this letter by candle-light, having 
been called up during the night to baj)tize a sick 
child, I therefore, wile away the early morn- 
ing hour in writing to you. 

Mr. met Eliza and party in New Orleans; 

from his account, she is, at least, no worse. By this 
time, she must be in Cuba. I wrote to her last 
night, by a vessel that sailed for that port. 

When I reached Georgetown, the steamboat had 
not arrived. I waited until 4 o'clock P. M., and 
thought it best then to take the stage. It was the 
little apple cart I came up in. The seams below 
were open, and the winds had a fair sweep through 
the little vehicle. It was a sadly cold night. You 
know, however, I profess to be a philosopher, and I 
made the best of it. I had occupation and amuse- 
ment, for the stage door flew open about every quar- 
ter of an hour, with a considerable degree of regu- 
larity, and, by counting the number of times I shut 
the door, I could make a tolerable guess at the dis- 
tance travelled. The stars were bright, and I could 
easily see them through the torn curtains ; and I 
brushed up the little Astronomy that I had not for- 
gotten. At *'8antee Ferry, ^' I had the coach filled 
up with straw, and there I met F., and was glad to 
have company. * :k * ^k * * 

Thank our friends for all their kindness. They 
have given me pleasant reminiscences of Waccamaw 
turkey, Waccamaw snipe, and good long Waccamaw 
yarns. I have come back to my duties with better 
health and redoubled relish." 

To John W Audubon. 

January, 1841. 

My health is, on the whole, good ; but the least 
over mental exertion, or a neglect to spend a day in 

192 John Bachmaa. 

the week out of the city, and I find my digestion 
affected. Strange that witli little practice with the 
gun, I should shoot more steadily than formerly. I 
recently had three long shots at deer — killed two 
and wounded the third. I never saw such quanti- 
ties of ducks as atWaccamaiv. I killed seven English 
ducks with one barrel, and five with the other. On 
the morning before I left, I took them singly, I had 
fourteen shots at English ducks, and killed every 
one. I had many spectators, and a kicking gun, 
from which my cheek suffered. If John had l)een 
there, with his big " Buffalo," (gun) he would have 
astonished the ducks. I have an episode to add ; 
They are ready to swear at Waccamaw, that there is 
a new^ species of English duck, common there in 
March — smaller than ours. They will send some 
down to me, and we shall see. I received yesterday, 
a Black-winged Hawk — killed at Edisto ; take notice, 
in Winter. Query — have they ever been seen so far 
North as this, in Summer? 

P. S. I have just heard from Victor ; he writes, 
''Eliza is a little better." Out of the seven letters 
sent by us to Cuba, not one has yet been received. 

J. B. 
From Mrs. Victor Audubon : 

Havan^\, Cuba, March 14th, 18-11. 
" Dear J.'s letter was the first received, since our 
stay on the Island, and it gave us great pleasure. I 
have been prevented by indisposition, from answer- 
ing it. To-day, I feel unusually well, and so write 
to you all whom I long to see. Do not fear that my 
kind husband will take me North, without my see- 
ing you all, in my first happy home. The thought 
of meeting my beloved family and friends in Charles- 
ton, has filled my mind botli night and day. 

Letter from Havana. 103 

P^or months, all my leisure time has been spent 
in fancy work, that I might have something for 
each of my friends. Tell Dr. Holbrook that I have 
everywhere enquired for shells, and have obtained 
quite a nice collection for him. The onlv shells 
that I found myself, were among the rocks and 
the stones at " San Pedro" — scorpions live there, so I 
was in danger of being stung all the time. The 
people here, seem to have no taste for Natural His- 
tory, and pass by the greatest curiosities without 
noticing them. Mr. B. is the only exception we 
have met with, and our visit to his delightful famil}^, 
is like a green spot in the desert. We left San 
Pedro, yesterda}^ All suffered from sea-sickness, 
except myself. I was able to sleep for the greater 
part of the day, and found on our arrival at the 
hotel in Havana, that I was well enough to help to 
take care of the sick. Do not think that when we 
meet, you will find no traces of disease in me ; ever\' 
breath I draw, convinces me that there is something 
to be removed, before health can return. Yet, when 
I see invalids in the last stage of disease come flock- 
ing to this Island, I feel grateful that loving friends 
have removed me in time, that my life may ])e pro- 
longed — perhaps for years. 

My mind is dwelling upon the thought, that [ 
shall take Jennie back with me to the North. It 
was dear mother that first gave me the promise, 
tell her to remember that I cannot bear a disap- 
pointment; nothing will add more to my improve- 
ment than to have her with me — the walks and the 
drives we shall take together, will serve to amuse 
and strengthen me. You will see us in a few weeks. 

M. E. A. 

Letters to the little brother and sister were en- 

194 John Bachman. 

Dr. Baclaman, in a letter to x\ndubon, writes: 

"Eliza has written to us; she feels lierself a little 
improved ; but, from her account, there seems to me 
no change for the better. I am glad to hear that 
our little Lucy and Harriet are well and happ}*. 
We are not all well, for my wife's health is impaired: 
she has neuralgia in an aggravated form, and her 
constant anxiety about Eliza prevents her from im- 

Thanks for the dog. It arrived in fine order, and 
promises to be a good liound. Dr. Desel has shown 
such hospitality to us all, that I sent the fine animal 
as a present to him, in John's name. He was as fat 
as a seal, active and playful. He has w^ritten a letter 
of thanks, and sends you all a warm invitation to 
come to '^ Libert}^ Hall." T wdsh, indeed, tliat you 
were here now, to take a little recreation with me. 
You shall have a further report of the hound, when 
he knows a deer from a rabbit. 

Amid April sho^vers, the travellers returned from 
Cuba to Charleston. All strove to be cheerful. The 
flowers were blooming and the birds singing. 
Audubon's "beloved Rosy" from childhood was the 
life of the home, ^faria had been less gay — a gentle 
gravit}^ a singular devotion to duty, had character- 
ized her. Eliza was the family poetess and song- 
stress, the promoter of innocent mirth — ever assured 
that her small efforts would please and amuse. Now, 
she strove to cheer her inother ; she did not dwell 
on her own pain or grief. She suffered chiefly from 
debility ; daily fevers were sap})ing her young 

Care. 1 95 

Dr. Bachman wrote to the Audubons : 

May 8th, 1811. 

''Victor, Eliza and Jane have just sailed (10 A.M.) 
for New York, in the ship "Calhoun." Eliza has not 
improved. Drs. Geddings and Horlbeck pronounce 
tlie case hopeless. 

We have yielded to a sad and bitter necessity in 
parting from her, under these circumstances. Mrs. 
B. has had a return of ticdoloreux, and is confined 
to bed." 

Mr. Victor Audubon and his family, under the 
impression that the tender and sorrowful memories 
lingering around her home, would retard the re- 
covery of the invalid, and still clinging to the hope 
that her health might be restored, urged her return 
to their lovely rural home on the Hudson. 

To HIS Daughter Jane : 

Charleston, May 11th, 1841. 

"It is three days since you left us. We have been 
watching the winds and the weather, and if good 
wishes and prayers avail, you will have a short and 
pleasant passage. On Sunday it blew almost a gale 
here, with a head-wind; yesterday and to-day, the 
winds are fair. I think you must have passed "Cape 
Hatteras ; " if so, this letter will meet you in New 
York. I need not say, that we are all anxiety un- 
til we hear from you. Your mothei' rests [)retty 
well; but her pains come on at day-light, and some- 
times last all day. 

The children are well and at school. W. is up at 
<iay-light looking out for fair winds, and asking- 
many questions about the time we may hope to hear 
from vou. 

196 John Bachman. 

Dear Jane, you will have an anxious and sorrow- 
ful time ; but these sorrows, cares and duties, will 
discipline you for the future, and render you more 
useful, and better prepared for both worlds. 

We have parted from you with great regret ; and 
nothing but a sense of duty would have reconciled 
us to your leaving your poor mother — we shall miss 
you every hour — and no one more than your 
mother. Under all circumstances, try to do your 
dut}^ Your aflections will prompt you to do all 
that lies in your power to relieve and console your 
suffering sister ; and you must direct her to place 
her trust on Him, from whom all our alleviations and 
blessings flow. Write what you think of Eliza's 
case — neither flatter nor despair. The plain truth, 
without concealment, is the safest and best in the 
end. Walk out every day, when you can be spared: 
try to preserve your health and strength, your in- 
dustry and energy, for future trials, should God see 
ht to send them ; and for many years of happiness, 
which your dutiful conduct so well deserves. 

Your mother and every member of the family 
join in affectionate remembrance to you and to all, 
and especially to our dear Eliza." * * * J. B. 

Two weeks later, Mary Eliza, second daughter of 
John Bachman, and wife of ^^ictor G. Audubon, 
died at the age twenty-two. She was laid to rest in 
the Cemetery at " Audubon Park," New York. A 
Lutheran clergyman, Rev. Mr. Martin, performed 
the last sad rites. 

Dr. Bachman to his Daughter Jank. 

''Victor's letter announcing the additional weight 
of sorrow and affliction that has befallen our family, 
was received to-day. Though in a manner prepared 

Bereavement, 197 

for it, from what we had seen of her wasted strength, 
we did not expect it so soon. The ways of God are 
dark and incomprehensible to us poor short-sighted 
mortals. It is our duty not to murmur, but to pray 
for submission. When Providence, in early life, 
removes from us those who have trusted in God, 
and faithfully performed their duties, we should 
believe that they have accomplished the work their 
Maker designed them to perform, and have lived a long 
life in a few years. In indulging a natural sorrow ior 
the departed, let us not forget our duty to the living. 

You have had a severe trial — you have witnessed 
her last hours. I pray God to soothe your griefs, 
and strengthen you foi^ the duties now before you. 

You are aware how deep was our regret at part- 
ing from you. Now, since your melancholy duties 
are performed, we long for your immediate return. 
You have always been a comfort to your parents, 
and especially to your mother, who now needs you 
more than I do. How far this new trial will aftect 
her, I know not. I trust that, on your return, you 
will find her better than when you left her, and as 
composed in mind, as can be expected, under pres- 
ent circumstances. 

Victor and John will make all necessary arrange- 
ments for your return — let it be immediate. Now 
that the hand of God is upon us, we look not only 
for His support, but also for the stay, the sympathy, 
and presence of our friends. 

Dear Victor : 

I do not know that I can add anything that will 
tend to alleviate your sorrows and comfort you 
under an affliction that has fallen on you, in com- 
mon with us. You have our deepest sympathies. 
We pray God to support you. 

Your affectionate father, J. B. 


198 JoJm Bachnan. 

Again he closed the door of his study, and wres- 
tled with tlie Angel of the Covenant. It was not for 
himself alone that he entered into thick darkness, 
or for himself alone that he came out into the light. 
Duty has been called " The stern daughter of the voice 
of God.'' Yet as she leads forth a blet^ding heart to 
minister to suffering humanity, is she not trans- 
formed into an angel, with healing on her wings? 
Men spoke of the " large sympathy " of the Pastor 
of St. John's. Was it not God-given, in the furnace 
of affliction ? 

Lights and Shadows. 

Degree of doctor of philosophy conferred — elected to 
various scientific and literary societies in europe 


To Audubon : 

Charleston, August, 1842. 

" My Dear Friend : I have just returned from a 
visit to the country, where I have left Mrs. Bach- 
man for the benefit of her health. T have a season 
ticket on the railroad, and, on my weekh' visits, I 
do much of my writing on Natural History. The 
moment the clock strikes four I am up, and soon at 
work. From this hour until seven, I have no inter- 
ruptions. I hope in this way to steal time to write 
about Q\tadnipc(h. When I get fairly under way, as 
I am now, I am not very easily diverted from the 
object before me, and nothing but ill health or do- 
mestic affliction will ket^p me back." 

J. B. 

His love for Nature in all her forms made these 
days of recreation fruitful to others, as well as health - 
giving to himself. Wherever he went, his pupils 

200 Joliii Bachman. 

and assifstants brought to him the results of their 
investigations, which he faithfully recorded in his 
little note-book. Teacher and pupil became alike 
enthusiastic over their discoveries; but the good 
work did not end there. Under the broad canopy 
of heaven, timid souls almost unconsciously laid 
bare to him their hearts, and drew from him wise 
€ounsel or tender sympathy. It has been said of 
him, " His simple, cliild-like character inspired con- 
fidence, almost instantaneously." 

Dr. Bachman, from 1835, besides writing luimbers 
of miscellaneous essays and reviews for scientific 
journals, contributed largely to the Editorial 
columns of the Southern Agrkidfurid. His labors 
introduced him to Tlte World of Science, which gave 
him a most gratifying recognition. 

In 1838, he received from Berlin, the degree of 
^' Doctor of PkUosopky'' and later he was elected to 
nearly every scientific association in America, and 

But his pastoral duties justly claimed his best and 
most arduous labors. 

He wrote in 1843 : 

Our city has been unusually healthy during the 
past Summer — in ni}^ own congregation I have had 
but two deaths ; but in a locality near the outskirts 
of the city, tlie " Stranger's Fever " broke out among 
the laborers on the railroad and swept off a great 
number of Germans. 

As our German minister was absent, I attended to 
his duties and found mv hands full. 

St. John's Colonizes. 201 

During the earh^ part of liis ministry in Charles- 
ton, he preached in German once a month. Believing 
that St. John's would t^ourish more if the ministra- 
tions were exclusively in English, he encouraged 
many of his German members to unite with the 
Germans in the city in forming a congregation, the 
services of which sliould be conducted entirely in 

In 1841, the corner-stone of the German Church 
in Hasell street, was laid; and, in 1842, its first 
Pastor, Rev. Mr. Becker, arrived from Germany. 
This offshoot from St. John's required the fostering 
care of Dr. Bachman and greatly increased liis lal)ors. 

To Audubon, after he had reci'ossed the Kocky 

Charleston, Oct. 31st, 1843. 

My Dear Friend : My anxieties about you were 
relieved l)y your letter, dated from Fort Deaven- 

I rejoice, friend, that you have escaped all dangers 
and are, to-day, in the vicinity of the coffee-pot, the 
feather-bed, and white faces. 

I write this to meet you in New York. 

Tell me of all your discoveries. You must have 
things rare and new. 0, how I long to tumble over 
the specimens. Talk of turile-soup, and other deli- 
cacies ; they are trifles, indeed, compared to such a 

Your specimens require an examination of three 
months. I cannot be spared from my pulpit, for a 
single Sunday — then how can I come to you ? It is 
out of the question, therefore, I feel sure that ^oon 

202 'John Bachman. 

you will be in my home with all your treasures, and 
we will discuss these subjects, as men ought to do 
who are in earnest. 

Write to me on foolscap, fully, fearlessly; what 
long yarns I expect to hear from you. Had you 
the honor of knocking down the Buffalo and the 
Moose ? Have you brought with you a Grizzly 
Bear, a Panther,'^ and a Wild-cat? Out with your 
treasures ! Let us overhaul them ! 

November 29th. — Fourteen new birds, did you 
say, friend Audubon — aye, it is a grand haul ! and 
the new Deer, what about that ? 

I saw in a Western paper, that you had been mis- 
taken for a Dunker, (a sect of Quakers distinguished 
by their long beards). I am not surprised — and I 
am glad to hear that the great beard is now cut off. 
I pictured you to myself, as I saw you in my home, 
when you came from Florida, via Savannah. You 
jumped down from the top of the stage. Your 
beard, two months old, was as gray as a Badger's. 
I think, a grizzly-bear, forty-seven years old, would 
have claimed you as ^' f^^^' "^^ohile fratrum. 

I shall take good care of your seeds ; they will do 
best here, when planted in Winter. Send a few of 
each, that I may plant them as early as possible. 

I long much to hear more of what you have ac- 
complished on your expedition. I am a tea-totaller. 
I drink no wine and do not use snuff. I hope that 
vou are able to say the same. ^ ^ ^ 

^ J. B. 

To Victor G. Audubon : 

Charleston, 1844. 

My Dear Victor: To go ahead with my work, I 
must have books for reference. Charleston is a poor 
place for scientific works. I am often sadly at a loss 
for books I desire to consult. I send you a list of 

Industrious Habits. 203 

them. How I should like to look into them for 
rmly two iveeks. Alas ! what can I do ? Sometimes, 
1 have to set aside a species, for the lack of speci- 
mens and books. 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 be- 
fore the time, that you would give me notice of the 
species you intend to put into the hands of the en- 
graver, and send me, at the same time, the speci- 
men. I cannot describe without it; I will guess at 

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 ratlier 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. 

The brush of my old friend, Audubon, is a truth- 
teller. I regard his drawings as the best in the 
world. Let us be very careful to correct any errors 
of description that have crept in on the plates — I 
see a few in the lettering — they can be corrected in 
the letter-press ; and let us be so cautious as to have 
nothing in the future to correct. There is but one 
principle on which a just man can act; that is, 
always to seek the truth and to abide by it. 

204 John Bachman. 

1 am pleased with Owen's luaniior of dissecting-, 
and his anatomical investigations in deciding on 
closely allied genera. He has, however, given very 
few of our American Cjuadrupeds. AV'hile T do not 
wish the dissections of others to be copied, we may 
learn something from them of their manner of dis- 
secting. Our motto must be : Nature, Trut/i, and 
no Humhvf] ! 

November 20th. Your letters have been received. 
About the little mouse — I cannot see a needle in a 
haystack ; or give it a name without knowing what 
it is. Friend, descriptions cannot be written, as a 
man works at making Jews-harps — so many dozen 
in a given time. My credit, as well as your father's, 
is so deeply concerned, that / aj'tll not pnblhh a day 
before 1 am ready. On the wliole, I am rather 
pleased with the work thus far. If I keep my 
health, the letter-press (1st volume of Quadrupeds) 
will be finished in the Spring, and we shall not be 
ashamed of it. But if you hurry and worry — why 
— dyspepsia — temper, and the old fellow I have 
(IraAvn for yuu (Hatan), I don't know how to figure 
his horns and his tail ! My business and profession 
is to keep him down — be careful that you don't 
wake him ui) i * ^ * * 

I have such confidence in you, that I believe that 
you will do all that I wish. In doing this, however, 
you will have your hands full. Mine are so — 
(jod knows ! Will not my old friend, Audu- 
bon, wake up, and work as he used to do, when 
we banged at the Herons and the fresh water 

I have a story to tell you about our little mouse. 
I believe that I am the first man who has carefully 
compared the American and European mice — my 
notes are full. Tell Jostle to write me a letter, or what 

Audubon. 205 

is belter, come and see me work, and aid me in getting 

Soon after Audubon's return from his perilou.4 
journeys among the Rocky Mountains, his friend 
hrst marked, witli deep concern, a lack of that noble 
enthusiasm in his work, that had formerly touched 
all hearts, and made his studies and labors in 
Natural Histor}^ a source of delight to himself and 
to all lovers of Nature. It was supposed that in his 
eager search for specimens to carry on his great 
work, he had overtaxed the strength of his body 
and mind. His friend and co-laborer wrote to him 
frecpiently, and sought to arouse and interest him 
in his former loved pursuits. 

To Audubon : 

Do you want, friend Jostle, to hear about the 
Curassows? The vagabonds climb up the fruit 
trees in my 3'ard, in spite of their wings being cut ; 
and they pluck off the green fruit. Besides, they 
have nearly stripped my peacock of feathers ; they 
peck awa}^ at the servants and race the children. 
They build, I find, on trees; the old male, as large 
as a turkey, built a nest on my mulberry tree, and 
sat bellowing like a Bullfrog, to invite the female 
up. Before she followed, she dropped an egg in the 
yard; it looked like that of the Turkey -buzzard. * * 

During the summer of 1845, accompanied by two 
of his daughters, he went North, attended a meeting 
of the General Synod, and spent a few weeks at 
Audubon's home on the Hudson River. 

206 John Bachmaii. 

Audubon and Bacliman clasp hands as of yore. 
The beautiful Hudson flows at their feet; their 
grand-children play at their knees — and they are 
happy — very happy ! Soon, however, Bachnian's 
observant eye and loving heart detected in Audu- 
bon the unusual absence of mind, that for some 
time, had been noticed by his family and friends. 
Yet, during this visit, Audubon painted, with his un- 
rivalled skill, '^Leconte's Pine Mouse ; " his friend is 
delighted, and thinks that rest is all that is needed 
to restore Audubon to health of mind and body. 

In October, Dr. Bachman turned his face home- 
wards. The Audubons had planned, that one of the 
daughters, in order to benefit from the skill of an 
eminent occulist, should remain a year under their 
hospitable roof. 


Baltimore, (Sunday night.) 

^ly dear Jane : "I intended to write you to-mor- 
row from Washington, but remembering that it will 
be a very busy day, I write to-night. I preached 
this morning : Julia and our friends accompanied 
me to Church. I hope that we have all had a 
very proh table day. * ^i: * * 

Julia enjoys everything ; friends have taken en- 
tire possession of her. Sight-seeing involves many 
fatigues and labors ior both mind and body — and, 
as I approach nearer home, I find myself more and 
more anxious to move on. Were it not for Julia, T 
should not stop at Washington. 

I have left you, my daugliter, in New York solely 
for the benefit of your eyes ; try to be as happy as 

Julia Bachman. 207 

you can during the cold winter which is approach- 
ing. But at your age, I did not mind the cold. Like 
Frank in the Reading book, I used to wish that 
Winter might last all the year. 

Next to your own dear parents, you are with the 
friends who love you most in the world, and will try 
to gratify every wish of your heart. Do not make 
yourself unhappy aDout 3'our separation from your 
mother. Lynch has become an excellent nurse, 
and Aunt Maria and I, will not let mother want 
for any thing. 

You must try to think that this temporary separ- 
ation, will be best for your mother and yourself. 
What we caniiot alter we should learn too, to bear 
patiently. Trust in the Wise Disposer of Events, 
who does nothing in vain, and sends even visita- 
tions and sorrows to work out His own good pur- 

The last time your mother went to Haskell's, she 
improved, and T shall coax her to pay another visit 
to Totness during the winter. * * * 

Love and thanks to Victor, and to all the Audu- 
bon family for their great kindness to you and to 
us during our visit. ***** 

Wherever the father and daughter journeyed, the 
classical form and face of his daughter, Julia, was 
the subject of comment. The attention she attracted 
was no doubt gratifying to liis fatherly pride; ,yet 
it seems to have aroused a fear in liis heart, that the 
adulation bestowed upon unusual personal beauty 
might be injurious to the spiritual development of 
his child. .Julia, perhaps accustomed to admiration 
from childhood, seemed to be scarcely conscious of it. 
She Avas frequently requested to sit for her likeness, 

208 John Bachman. 

but always declined. Reserved in manner, and of a 
temperament so unlike her father's; it was not until 
several years later, that he discovered how entirely 
he had misunderstood her character. 

On his return to Charleston, he wrote to Victor 
Audubon : 

October 31st, 1845. 

We arrived at our own dear home, well, though 
much fatigued. My good wife is not suffering to- 

While at Washington, I worked like a horse 
among the quadrupeds — Peale assisted me. 

The specimens are here before me, ready to be 
handled, also the Elk horns — I thank you. 

I see De Kay makes two species of our Northern 
Grey Squirrel — I think it an extraordinary mistake. 
The three you figured are in Summer pilage, without 
hair-like tufts on the back of the ears. My opinion 
is, that the Squirrels ot the first summer get no tufts 
the first Winter; but the second Winter the tufts ap- 
pear, and return alwa3^s. I once obtained in the 
New York Market, three with tufts in December. I 
remember too, that when a boy I caught them in 
traps in Winter, they had tufts ; and in Summer, they 
were all Grey Squirrels; and I was much puzzled. 
Now friend, can't you ransack the market for caged 
squirrels, and examine for yourself? * * * 

It is late, and I am weary, weary. To-mori'ow 1 
shall finisli this. * * * * 

January 1st, 184(). 

Dear Audubon — As I do not like to disappoint you 

in anything, I send you one of the articles. It is 

about a fair sample of the whole — some please me 

far better — tliere are a dozen superior to this, whilst 

Auduhoa^s JournaL 209 

others have less interest. I try to incorporate as 
much as I can of your own, but, in most cases, your 
notes have come too late. 

You see how plain Haskell writes : I should think 
that by this time, he has copied three hundred 
pages as correctly as the inclosed. I should have 
sent an article from those I prefer, but they contain 
blanks to be filled up when I get the desired infor- 

March 6th, 1846. 

For the last four nights, I have been reading your 
journal. I am much interested, though I find less 
about the c|uadrupeds than I expected. The narra- 
tions are particularly spirited, and often instructive, 
as well as amusing. All that you write on the spot, 
I can depend on, but I never trust to the memory 
of others, any more than to my own. I admire a 
remark of Dr. Wright's on this head. I wished him 
to give me an account of the glands of the Skunk. 
He answered, " I must write for my notes, I cannot 
depend for these particulars on a fading memory.^' 

Poor Dr. Wright, he spent two weeks at my 
house; then, at his request, I took him to Aiken. T 
have now just returned from a visit to him ; he is 
able to drive out, but his cough has increased, and 
I fear that we shall have to abandon all hope of his 

To return to your Journal. I am afraid that the 
shadows of the Elk, Buffalo, and Bighorn hid the 
little Marmots, Squirrels and Jumping Mice. I wish 
that you had engaged some of the hunters to set 
traps. I should like to get the Rabbit that led you 
so weary a chase. Write to S., and find out some 
way of getting — not his princess brain-eating, 
horse-straddlmg squaw, but what is better than 
such a specimen from the Black-foot country — 1st, 
The Skunk ; 2nd, Hares, in Winter colors ; and 3rd^ 

210 John BarJnnaa. 

the Rabbit tliat you chased. In your Journal your 
descriptions of Buffalo hunts are tirst rate. I don't 
like my article on the " Beaver," I shall have to 
write it over again. If I could only borrow Tern- 
mmcFs large work. Every library here is open to 
me, and you would be astonished to see the number 
of books in my own library; but the scientific works 
of close comparison are not among them. I had 
written letter after letter, but might have saved ten 
dollars postage. The answers from my native State 
brought me no information. One letter to Dr. 
Wright, last year, solved my difficulties, and con- 
firmed my old views — his letter was like a light in 
a dark chamber. Alas ! he is not long for this 
world. His very love of science causes him to wish 
to live. I am truly glad that lie came to us, instead 
of going, as he proposed, to South America ; here he 
receives every attention. When he parted from me, 
yesterday, he told me that we should not meet 
again — I believe that he is mistaken. As soon as I 
have sent off your first twenty-five numbers, 1 shall 
go and spend a few days with him. Love to Jane 
and to the whole familv circle. * * * * 

To HIS Daughter Jane 

March 8th, 1846. 

Winter with us, to all appearances, is past and 
gone. The Jasmines and Honeysuckles are just 
beginning to show a few flowers. The Plum trees 
are in full bloom. To-morrow, the first rose will 
open — a beautiful ClofJi of Gold. I wish I could give 
it to you — imagine that you have it. Could I send 
it, the heart would go along with it. 

Your mother misses 3^ou — her faithful nurse; but 
L. is a treasure, and is now reading aloud to amuse 
her. William enters college next month. Little 

A Thorn in the Flesh. 211 

C. is obedient and excellent. I have not liad occa- 
sion to reprove her for six months, and she is grow- 
ing in size and improving in knowledge. 

The whole family send 3^ou a thousand remem- 
brances. Love to the Audubons. * * '^ J. B. 

P. S. — My article on the Beaver, that did not 
please me, I have re-written, and Julia has copied 
it clearly for me. Say to Victor that it is now ready 
for the press. 

To John Audubon : 

Charleston, March 21st, 1845. 

I find the describing and writing the histories of 
animals slow and tedious work. I have been nearly 
two days, until late in the evenings, hammering at 
tlie Porcupine, and the article is not yet quite 
finished. * ^ * * " 

Victor writes that I am growing savage. True, 
my boy, for I am the school-master just now, and 
find him a little lazy, and I am lashing him to work. 
When he behaves like an industrious boy, I shall 
put him at the head, and give him sugar jdums. 

18th. I have suffered so much with inflammation 
of the eyes for the last four or five days, that the Doc- 
tors insist that I have overworked them, and have 
made me give up writing for some days. Sister 
Maria hid my spectacles, and I only found them 
after all had gone to bed. 

If to-morrow Doctor Horlbeck should allow me, 
with a shade over my eyes, in an hour I could ex- 
amine my specimens. Every book that you have 
lately sent me is a treasure. " * ^' " 

My daughter Harriet, and son-in-law Haskell, are 
with us. 

212 John Bachman. 

P. S., March 22d. — Within this hour, a graiid-Bon 
has been born to me. Harriet and the boy are do- 
ing welL I hear the fellow's voice — his lungs are 
strong. He is to be called ''John Bachman" 
(Haskell.) ^ ^ ^ 

( Treat was the jo}' of the grand-parents over their 
tirst grand-son. Mrs. Bachman grew a little 
stronger, as she watched b}^ the cradle, and made 
little garments for their boy. 

To Victor Audubon : 

April Oth, 184G. 

My predictions and fears, with regard to my 
friend, Dr. Wright, have been verified sooner than 
I expected. His body, enclosed in a leaden coffin, 
was brought to my house from Aiken, yesterday. I 
shall forward his remains to his friends in New 
York, b}' the next boat I grieve much for the loss 
of a man of science — of skill in his profession — of a 
pure heart and useful life. Mrs. \y right is with us; 
she leaves to-morrow, in company with friends for 
New York. Will you, for my sake, take her to 
your home for a few days, until the body reaches 
New York ? Her friends will meet her there, and 
they will take the remains to Dr. Wriglit's home in 

We enjoyed John Audubon's visit, and shall be 
very glad to hear of his safe arrival home. 

Mrs. Bachman's health, for a fortnight, has been 
improving. Harriet and the boy are quite w^ell. 
Haskell has just left us for his plantation. '-^ '^ * 

J. B. 
To Audubon : 

April 7th. 

Yesterday Mrs. P., the friend of Mrs. Audubon, 
called on us. We were much pleased with her in- 

Mrs. Bachman. 213 

telligence and agreeable nianiiers. She has now 
seen ever>' member of our family — the little grand- 
son in the bargain. She was present, too, at his 
baptism. ^<r ^ i cannot conceal from you, 
friend Audubon, that ni}^ spirits lately have been 
depressed ; nor can I conceal from myself, that my 
dear wife's sufferings have shattered her frame, and 
that she has been losing strength. I trust in God 
that there may be some decidedly favorable change, 
else it is problematic, if her strength will permit her 
to come to you in June, as you have planned — this 
must l)e left to the development of time. 

Tbe proof-sheets have not l^een received ; I hope 
that they will come to hand, that I may correct 
them next week ; but T work now in a s})iritless 

This is Saturday, and I am unusually busy. Mrs. 
P. will tell you all about us, and Jane will ask many 
questions about everything and everybody at home. 

Monday. — The Letter-press has been received, and 
returned corrected. 1 am hard at work on the 
articles during the few hours left to me from a 
thousand calls and interruptions. We have a small 
family — only my three school-children are at home, 
the others are away, and the house seems very 
quiet — too quiet. 

To Victor Audubon: 

April 1st, 184(). 
For weeks T have not answered your letters. I 
had taken my poor, suffering wife to Totness, 
(Haskell's summer residence), ninety-five miles from 
Charleston. I left her with my daughter Harriet, 
improving as I thought. Suddenly her Ticdoloreux 
returned in frightful paroxysms ; the physician's skill 
was powerless to contr )1 the j^ain, and she became 

214 John Bachman. 

so excessively weak that, every day, for two weeks, 
I feared the end was near. Haskell sent for all the 
children. I was wretched; I cannot look to the 
event of losing my beloved wife without feelings 
bordering on despair. 

iSundaij night. — A favorable change occurred 
yesterday, (Saturday). I took the train and reached 
Charleston in time to fill my pulpit, and sliall re- 
turn to Totness by to-morrow's early train. 

I had hoped that the change into the country, 
would benefit my dear wife. Even now, I am not 
entirely bereaved of hope, but my prospects are 
dark — very dark. I shall not let her leave me 
again. If she could only bear the journey, and be 
at home once more, near her own physicians, in 
whom she has the utmost confidence. 'Meanwhile 
1 have brought my daughter Julia home with me, 
to take care of the boys, who return to school. 

Your queries I cannot answer until I have my mind 
again— at present I am unable to think or to attend 
to anything. 

Charleston, April 8th. 

" The Electric Battery " has, at length, brought 
relief to my poor, suffering wife. She is to-day com- 
paratively free from pain, though very weak. 

I have brought her home again. You will hear 
from me soon. J. B. 

Mrs. Bachman, to her daughter, Mrs. Wm. 
E. Haskell, at Zante, S. C. 

Charleston, May 1st, 1846. 

My dear Harriet— "I am delighted to hear that 
Julia and yourself had such a pleasant journey to 
Zante. Julia writes me that Zante is a lovely place; 
and that the little Bachman is well and good. I felt 

John Bachman Haskell. 215 

lonely after you left me, and thought several times 
that I heard the baby cry. Had I not made up my 
mind to go North this Summer, I should have tried 
to spend much of the time with you ; but I long to 
see Jane dnd bring her home with me. 

By my writing, you will see that I am weak and 
nervous — though I am better than I ever expected 
to be. * =!= =:< - * Harriet B. 

John Bachman to Victor Audubon. 

Charleston, June 6th, 1846. 

The Mouse from Fort Union is new. 1 would 
like you to figure it and return it then to me, 
that I may name and describe it. Have patience 
with me, remember I have many important, and 
unaided Church duties to perform. 

I am happy to be able to say that my dear wife 
has been w^ell enough to take several drives, and has 
been able once to go to Church. I hope to bring 
her to you in a month's time. 

Mrs. Bachman to her daughter Mrs. William K. 

June 21st, 1S46. 

Last Sunday I attended service, both morning 
and afternoon, but I have not been so well this 

I am rejoicing over the good accounts of the 
greatest of grandsons — howl would like to take a 
peep at him, I should hardly know him now. 

I wish that circumstances would allow me to 
spend a month with you before I leave for New 
York, but it cannot be arranged. 

Your father thinks that we shall be ready to sail, 
about the first week in July. 

216 John Bachman. 

I trust that my health may improve, and that 1 
may have the strength to assist your Aunt Maria in 
taking care of my family. Love to Julia and Mr. 
Haskell — kiss little Bachman a thousand times for 
me. Your affectionate mother. 

H. B. 

Our Mother, was a skillful needle-woman; when 
an unfortunate rent had been made in some delicate 
fabric, no hand could repair and conceal the defect, 
better than her's. We brought to her our brokeu 
toys to mend ; and, in our games, she would even 
straighten the bent pins for us. Her chamber was 
the quiet, peaceful spot, where we took our books to 
study a hard lesson, or to write our school compo- 
sition. Frequently, and not unwillingly, we shared 
with her, the dainties provided specially for tiie in- 
valid. How many daily lessons of fortitude, patience 
and unselfish devotion to God and duty, her holy 
example taught us in the days of childhood. 

Years after, when the gentle sufferer was with her 
God, we found a pencilled diary, ij] her hand-writ- 
ing — it was a revelation to us. The little book was 
intended for no eye but her own. It was dated from 
the home of her daughter, Harriet, (Mrs. Haskell.) 
and written during her absence from her husband. 
It revealed to us, the strength and beauty of a wife's 
devotion to her husband — the little prayer of thanks- 
giving, recorded wlien she had been comparatively 
free from pain during his visits to her, and could bo 
a helper, not a hindrance, to him in his arduous 
labors, opened to our view a singularly pure and 

Mrs. Bachman. 217 

useful life. She never objected to a separation from 
lier children, when it was for their pleasure or benefit, 
though she missed them sorely, and longed for their 
presence. Which of us could forget our father's 
,strict and repeated injunctions to us as he gave the 
parting kiss — " Write frequently, my child ; remem- 
ber, if you neglect to do so, your silence will make 
your mother anxious and unhappy." It was no 
wonder tliat her husband and family loved her 
with almost a passionate tenderness. 



Death of mrs. kacfimak — letters to the family — letters T(> 



N 1846, death stealthily entered again into th(? 
home of the Pastor of St. John's. 
In the following letter he gives the sad details : 


Charleston, .Inly 16th, 1846. 

Yesterday, I announced to you the melancholy 
event that has brought sorrow and mourning into- 
our home, and rendered it very desolate. 

I was not, my children, without the hope thai 
your mother might be benefited by tlie proposed 
trip to tlie North, that she was anxious to under- 

We were ])rovidentially detained in Charleston 
longer than we intended, in consequence of no vessel 
being in port. On Saturday several arrived, and on 
Monday I selected a state-room in the "Carolina.'' 

On Sunday night your mother awoke witli an; 
attack of Ticdoloreaux. About 2 A. M., she fell 
asleep; but I could not sleep from agony of mind. 
I felt that I was about to leave my poor sufferer at 
the North, without knowing if I should ever see her 
again. I feared to move, least I should disturb her; 
but at 5 A. M., when I rose, she was sleeping calndy. 

Death of Mrs. Bachman. 21 9 

Breakfast was partly over, when, to my surprise, 
she came to the table ; she was looking very feeble. 
After breakfast, 1 told her that I was going to select 
a state-room in the ''Carolina,^' she assented. Hav- 
ing made my selection, and visited the sick in my 
congregation, I returned home and found that your 
mother, in my absence, had suffered from a severe 
attack of pain. Dr. Horlbeck was passing our house 
at the moment, he came in, and himself adminis- 
tered the usual dose of a mild anodyne. I left the 
two girls, L. and C, with their mother, while I lay 
down to take a little rest. I awoke about 4 o'clock 
P. M. ; she was still sleeping. I felt her pulse; its 
weakness alarmed me. Dr. H. was summoned. 
She never revived, and at 7 P. M., breathed her last, 
as quietly as an infant falls asleep. God's will be 
done! But ah, the shock! The suddenness ! We 
were all stupefied. I know she is at rest with her 
God, that He has taken her to His own peaceful and 
joyful kingdom. But our liome is lonely and my 
heart desolate. She was ever a loving wife, the 
soother of all my cares and sorrows. 

Dear children, you know how fond and devoted 
a mother you have lost — one that watched over 
your interests, and gave to you, next to her God, 
Tier thoughts and affections. 

Yet, let us not sorrow, as those who have no hope. 
Let us cherish her memory ; imitate her virtues ; 
her love of duty ; her purity of heart ; her integrity 
-of life, and her love to her God and Saviour. 

While I am always glad to have my children 
around me; yet I do not say, " Come home" — that 
you must decide upon for yourselves. Just yet, you 
€an contribute nothing to my happiness — comfort 
must first come from a higher source. I shall write 
often to you. ****** 

J. B. 

220 John Bachman. 

To HIS Daughter Jane, in New York. 

Charleston, July 18th, 1846. 

" I wrote you two days ago. My mind was so 
confused at the time, that I cannot recollect dis- 
tinctly what I wrote. * * * 

My children have experienced a heavy loss, but 
ah ! the heaviest falls on the devoted head of their 

Yet it is God who rules our destiny and orders 
our lot. His arm reaches from heaven to earth. 
He who has given the life that now is, has also left 
us the promise of that which is to come. When a 
few years shall have passed away He will send his 
angels to call us home. There Ave shall meet our 
Lord in the peaceful land, where sorrow, sin, and 
death are unknown. There our loved ones will be 
restored to us, purified from all imperfections and 
wearing the crown of immortality. 

My daughter, cherish these high hopes of our 
religion, they are angels of Mercy sent to guide us 
through the storm, and to lead us to the land beyond 
death and the grave. 

God has promised never to leave us, or to forsake 
us. It is true, God has sent death into our family 
and caused our hearts to bleed — but then it was the 
virtuous dead, who died in the Lord. Has he not 
saved us from dishonor and disgrace — evils worse 
than death ? 

It is true, that we ardently desired to retain our 
loved one here — sufferer as she was — but, was it not, 
after all, a selfish wish ? She was an intense suf- 
ferer — her moments of rest and joy were few and far 
between. Long she had lingered with us— at length 
only a faint shadow of what she once was. Then 
her Maker sent her a gentle, quiet rest from all her 
sorrows. O my beloved, sainted wife, may your 

Words of Comfort. 221 

husband learn from you, patience, gentleness, and 
submission ! 

I pray for submission to God's will, and I know 
that He will, in His own good time, enable me to 
say : " Although the fig tree shall not blossom^ neither 
shall fruit be in the vines ; the labor of the olive shall 
fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; the fiocks shall 
be cut off from the fold, and. there shall be no herd in the 
stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the 
God of my salvation.''^ 

My daughter, you Avere long the watchful, faith- 
ful nurse of your mother. How tenderly and cheer- 
fully you performed that duty, we all know full 
well ; and your mother's loving remembrances of 
you, proved how deeply you were fixed in her inmost 
affections. Now, when you place your head on 
your pillow, or bend your knee in prayer before the 
Majesty of heaven, there will be no painful reflec- 
tions of filial duty neglected. You need not fear 
to meet the spirit of your mother in the peaceful 
kingdom of A^our blessed Saviour. 

May I not hope to hear that you have bowed sub- 
missively to this call from a merciful God, and that 
you have been enabled to say " Thy ivill be done /" 

All join me in love to you, and to every member 
of the Audubon family. * * * * 

To Victor Audubon : 

July 18th, 1846. 
" When your last letter reached me, I hoped that 
we would soon converse together in person, and 
have opportunities to solve the doubts contained in 
your letter, but God has ordered it far otlierwise. 
In God's name, try to comfort our poor, dear Jane ! 

-M * * ^ ^: * t- 

I am bowed down, and almost distracted with 
anxieties ; the latest is, that Haskell's account of 

222 John Bachman. 

Julia makes it necessary for me to go to her. I will 
leave in the morning's train. In a few days I shall 
let you know my further movements. * * * * 

To HIS Daughter Jane, New York : 

Charleston, July 22nd. 

1 have just returned from Totness, where- 1 went 
in haste on Sunday morning to see Julia : who, on 
hearing of our sudden loss, fell into a swoon, and, 
on recovery, her mind wandered. AVhen I reached 
Lewisville, where the cars left me, I found no con- 
veyance, so I walked the six miles. It was a cool 
day, and I felt no inconvenience from the long and 
unaccustomed walk. They had not expected me on 
Sunday morning, so had not sent for me to the rail- 

Harriet's good husband, their lovely boy, and her 
family cares, diverted her mind from the poignancy 
of grief; but to our poor Julia, it was the one and 
all-engrossing subject. She was so much better 
when I reached Totness, that to my surprise, she 
came to meet me. In her chamber, I saw religious 
books; judging from the passages marked, she is 
perusing them carefulh'. 

Thinking that there would be less to remind her 
continually of the loss where she is, than if I took 
her home, I proposed to her to remain with Harriet 
for the present, and she has consented. I have a 
season ticket on the railroad, and shall go up once a 

Our friends are verv kind and attentive to us, 
and if svmpathv can afford relief, surelv we shall 
find it. "^ ^ 

My mind is peculiarly constituted ; in grief, I like 
to be alone. In solitude, I can learn the path of 
duty, and plan how to regulate my feelings, and 

Duty. 223 

govern my conduct, then, I am generally able to 
rise from despondency and to look to God for aid 
and strength to go on in the performance of duty. 
I was prepared to preach last Sunday, but was pre- 
vented by the sudden call into the country. This 
evening, (Tuesday) I have had my usual lecture, 
and was able to perform the whole service. 

July 2f)th, (Monday). 

Julia has written to us ; she is still much depressed : 
I must go to Haskell's and try to cheer her as well 
as I can. 

We heard yesterday from Wilson. He wrote a 
sensible letter, full of feeling. Mr. Lee, (his teacher) 
proposed to him that he should dispense with his^ 
lessons for a few days ; but he answered that he 
thought, if his mother were here, she would advise 
him not to stop his studies, and he continued hi& 
recitations in his class. He promises to try to do 
everything that his mother would desire. Wm. 
and C. are studying their lessons preparatory ta 
going to school. L. is not well enough yet, to go 
out. I am sorry to see symptoms of dyspepsia in 
one so young. 

Yesterday I preached twice. I went with a heavy 
heart ; but God supported me. I pray God to bear 
you up in His arms of love, and to enable you to 
bow to His divine dispensations. 

I am ready, my dear Jane, to comply with your 
wishes in regard to your return. I have written to 
Doctor Trucleau to get his opinion ; he will deter- 
mine if you may come at once, or wait until cooler 
weather; your interest and your wislies shall be 
consulted. My love to all the Audubons, especially 
to the children. 

Your affectionate fatlier, 

J. n. 

224 JoJtn Baclnnan. 

Charlp:ston, Juh' 27th, 184G. 

I thank my CJod, my daughter, that you have 
been enabled to view this affliction in its true light. 
I am surprised now, that I did not foresee the sad 
event; the night before her death, she told 
me that I would not have her with me much 
longer. God, in His mercy, saved her from the 
pain and consciousness of the parting hour. God 
bless you and comfort you. * =i< * 

July 15th. 

"It is Saturday, and I am as usual, much engaged; 
yet, I cannot feel that my duties are discharged 
until I have Avritten to you. "'' * ^= * 

Yesterday, I returned from Totness ; I spent one 
day there and consumed two others in going and re- 
turning. Haskell sent for all the family. I have 
taken them to Totness, and I hope that the change of 
air, scenery, and society, maybe beneficial to them — 
they needed a change. 

I am alone at home. I think I feel better, when 
no one interrupts me, and I sit in my quiet corner, 
preparing for my many duties and responsibilities. 
Yet, if I had you all with me once again, and all 
quite well, I should draw around me the materials 
for happiness that are still left. I am looking up to 
our heavenly Father to sanctify this affliction to us, 
and to shed peace and comfort on our lives. ^lay 
God in His mercy guard, preserve, and bless us. * 

To Victor Audubon : 

November 5th, 1841). 

This is Thanksgiving-da3\ It is raining, blowing 
and snorting as if old Boreas, Neptune, and all the 
sea-devils had combined to frighten the wicked in- 

Tlianhsg} v'mg-Day . 225 

habitants of Terra-firma. Well, they say that " it is 
an ill wind that blows nobody any good," so, after 
preaching to about twenty half-drowned people, I 
am seated by the fire, ready, without fear of inter- 
ruption, to write you the names of your recent 
drawings. '•' ^- * * * 

There are the five — all plain sailing ; the sixth; 
friend — here is no fun. '^ * * 

Short-tailed Marmot. By some unaccountable mis- 
take I never saw the specimen in London. I am 
mortihed. Lewis & Clarke mention, but do not 
describe it. Short- tailed is an improper name; its 
tail is longer than many others. Now, we are to 
describe it ; but not without a close examination of 
the specimen. John has access to it in London. 
AVaterhouse will verify his measurements ; but let 
him not hint, that it has not yet been described, as 
those Zoological boys, would name it an hour after- 
wards. Meanwhile, let Mctor send me an outline of 
the drawing, dabbling on it a little of the colors, to 
give me an idea of it. 0, that I had wings just for 
an hour, that would carry me at telegraphic speed to 
London, to see the specimen for myself ! — but here 
I am seated, without wings. Write at once to John. 

The second and third proofs have come to hand. 
I have received the opinion of the post-master. We 
are allowed to Avrite corrections and additions to our 

We wrote you of Jane's safe arrival. She cannot 
say enough of your kindness to her and your 
thoughtfulness of her comfort. Harriet and Haskell 
both have been ill with fever. I brought them 
'home Avitli me ; they are well enough to be down 
stairs to-day. Julia's health continues very delicate. 

P. S, — To Audubon : The snuff — the snuff, it is 
here! I have just taken a pinch, and the ladies 

226 John Bachman. 

liave blown you up — sky-higJi, for teaching me such 
a had practice ; I say, however, that you beat me 
all to pieces in that art. Love to all, especially, 
to my little pussies, Lucy and Harriet. God bless 
you. * * 

To Audubon : 

March 13th, 1847. 

I am seated at daylight ready to write you, but 
I am not sure that you deserve a letter — are you all 
frozen up, or only lazy ? 

At last the letter-press has been received, and the 
review of the first volume. The printing of the 
former is excellent. I could review it and row the 
authors up Salt River. There is something in Mrs. 
Glass' (Cookery-book), Boil your fish after you have 
caught him, and something of old Squib, (the 
gradener), Put on some well rotted manure — if you 
have any. HoAvever, I only hope that the Second 
Volume may contain as much information as the 
first. The review is quite clever ; the man knows 
more of tlie history of American naturalists than I 
thought. He gives us old men rather too much 
butter and sugar — gives a thundering broadside into 
DeKay, and abuses Harlan a little too much. 

Of late, I have spent money, and given much 
trouble to my friends in obtaining Opossums — by 
the twenties. I should like to reward the hard 
laborers with books — for this purpose I have taken 
twelve copies, and should like to have six more. 

I have two new subscribers for you, (the copies 
must be bound handsomely), viz : for The Charles- 
ton Library Society and Hon. Mitchell King. 

I send you to-day, by the Brig " George,^' a Wild- 
turkey. I have carefully kept her, doctored her 
warts, and she looks pretty well, only her wing- 

A Shadow. 227 

feathers have come out white. I also send a box of 
rose-trees for the ladies. 

P. S. — a cold North wind has sprung up ; I shall 
not send the turkey and the roses until wind and 
weather change. * "^ Maria, the girls and child- 
ren all send love ; they are well, excepting my 

daughter Julia. 

J. B. 


Father and Daughter. 

WHEN John Haskell realized that a fatal disease 
was daily weakening the cords of his life, and 
that another hand was to write the Biography of his 
Grandfather — a work that his heart craved to be 
])ermitted to accomplisli, he wrote to his aunt, 
C. L. B. 

''I have ceased to expect, or to hope for recovery; 
I am changing the hope of earthly life, to tlie greater 
hope of eternal life. You may have to write the 
Biography. I would, in that event, say, that it was 
my intention to devote a chapter to the beautiful 
life and death of my Aunt Julia. I find many 
letters relating to her in my grandfather's own hand- 
writing (and others) ; use them. Thus her exquisite 
life — the result of his — for she was his daughter, 
may be told incidentally in his own words." 

There are wonderful histories written and graven 
on human souls, many of these will be revealed only 
in the light of eternity, but, in tlie following pages, 
the Pastor of St. John's opens his soul to the reader. 
He has thrown on the canvass a life picture, that 
needs no coloring from fancy or fiction. 

We have before alluded to the beauty of Julia, 
(Dr. Bachman's fourth daughter) — a beauty of coun- 
tenance and a grace of form seldom found combined. 

Julia 31. Baclman, 229 

With his high thoughts, he felt that any special 
gift was a talent, that called for a special consecra- 
tion of the same to the Giver. His elder daughters, 
when they were of ripe age, had rejoiced to renew 
the baptismal vows made for them in infancy. 

AVith the same teachings, under the same in- 
fluences, how was it with Julia? He was jealous for 
his Lord: not the world, but the Master, should 
have the sweet freshness of her youth. With watch- 
ful e^^e and prayerful thought, he followed her day 
by day. Frequently he attempted to draw aside the 
veil of reserve and timidity that concealed from him 
her heart, and her mind; yet all his efforts appeared 
to him not only unsuccessful, but every new failure 
seemed to add another fold to the veil tliat hid the 
inner sanctuar}^ from his eager gaze. 

She was twenty 3'ears of age at the time of her 
mother's death. From that date the family letters 
contain allusions to her failing health. 

Her father wrote to John Audubon : 

June 19th, 1S47. 

I have been suffering with an inflammation in 
my eyes — they feel as if they had sand in them. I 
have pressed Sister Maria into service. I am seated 
with a patch on each eye, while I dictate this answer 
to your letter. I am not gloomy, only hoping for 
more light, better eyes, and better times. * * * 

Before entering into the perplexing part of the 
letter — the naming of the species — I must speak of 
family affairs, Julia's health has failed steadily. I 
took her, as you know, to Aiken for a few weeks. 
Her cough is distressing, and she has fever every 

230 John Baclnnan. 

(lay. In a couple of weeks I shall take her to the 
Virginia Springs. Her aunt Maria and her sister 
L. will accompany her. I expect to go with them 
as protector, and remain witli tliem three or four 
weeks. * "^^ * 

Richmond, July 10th. 

We have advanced thus far on our weary, anx- 
ious journey. Tlie physicians were hopeful, but my 
views of Julia's case are unfavorable. I notice that 
she speaks continually as if hopeless of recovery. I 
try to cheer her. 

My eyes will not permit me to write more. Direct 
to the Red Sulphur Springs, A^irginia. 

To John and A'ictor Audubon : 

Red Sulphur Springs, July 2Sth, 1847. 

Your and Victor's letters we found waiting for us 

We have had a fatiguing and sad Journey over 
these rough mountains. Julia was so weak that we 
were compelled to rest a week at the Salt Sulphur, 
another at the Sweet Springs, and a fcAv days at the 
AVhite Sulphur. I will not pain you by giving a 
detail of our adventures, anxieties, and sufferings. 
I came to gratify her wishes. Alas! the shadow of a 
hope that I had entertained is vanishing. I scarcely 
dare turn my mind towards the weeks that are to 
follow this. 

Continue to write and send us a newspaper or two. 
We have none here, and I feel almost cut off from 
the world. 

Every one seems full of sympathy and kindness. 
We have good medical aid, nurses and friends. My 
e^^es have improved. 

I am lookino- out of mv window on the urand. 

Jidla M. Bachman. 231 

romantic and lovely scene before me, in this sweet 
valley, surrounded by mountains, covered to their 
highest peaks with ricli and varied foliage. In the 
buildings around me what a contrast I — night and 
da}^ I hear coughing. 

I meet with pallid faces, and see on many a cheek 
the hectic flush. How terrible is consumption ! It 
seizes with a deadly hold, weakens the cords of life, 
day by day ; and only relinquishes its fatal gras]) 
when life is extinct. How sad to see this beautiful 
garden of earth, disfigured by graves and monu- 
ments of the dead. But so it is ; and man, the 
child of the dust, must bow submissively to the will 
of heaven. * ^' 

August 2(1. 

The shadow of hope which I sought to indulge in 
has given place to the saddest of realities ; disease is 
sapping away the fountain of life — our Julia will 
never leave the mountains alive 

I have received all your letters, but I do not feel 
able to reply to them. 

All send love. 

August lotli. 

Since I last wrote, hope has arisen anew in my 
heart. Four days ago Julia revived, and with a 
little assistance was able to walk about the room ; 
this slight improvement has fed our liopes. She has 
little appetite, but likes birds. I have shot for her 
pheasants, ruffled grouse and partridges: but all 
birds are scarce in the mountains; sometimes I walk 
or ride six or seven miles, without meeting even a 
sparrow. Animal life seems almost absent on these 
mountains; I scarcel}' hear the hum of an insect. 
How sad this place is to me I It is thronged witli 
coughers, there is around us every form of disease, 
and we are dailv distressed bv sad sio:lits and melan- 

232 John Bachman. 

choly tidings — the very music sounds to me like a 

Gen. McD., of this State, and the P — n's, of Co- 
kimbia, are here on a visit to their sister, Mrs. McD., 
who lies ill in the room adjoining our's, and we have 
their attentions and sympathies. 

If Julia could gain strength enough to travel 
very slowly over these mountains, we might yet 
take her to her home. 

May God direct and aid us, and give us fortitude 
to bear the heavy impending bereavement. 

Many of the visitors at the Red Sulphur Avould 
willingly have accompanied Dr. Bachman in his 
tramps after game for his daughter, but they saw that 
to weary himself in her service helped his sad heart. 

The children Avere on the watch for his return, 
and would run to the foot of the hill to bring home 
the birds for him, and were well pleased to get in 
return a pleasant word or smile. They would 
linger around, too, if the carriage stood at his cot- 
tage door, to catch a glimpse of his daughter's lovely 

The beauty that attracted so much attention has 
been described thus : 

"Features regular and ^classic; complexion fair 
and transparent ; hair of a rich brown, worn in light 
curls : eyes full and expressive — a true grey (always 
changeful in color) ; the mouth delicate and well 
formed." But a face like hers, when lighted up by 
the soul, possesses a spiritual beauty, that neither 
brush nor pen could ever portray. 

Soon a day came when the invalid was too weak 

Julia M. Bachman, 233 

to take her accustomed drive. Her father saw her 
losing ground day by day. He noted, besides, her 
ever increasing watchfuhiess over those at her bed- 
side, in her anxiety lest prolonged vigils should ex- 
haust their strength. As he read to her the Word of 
God, he eagerly marked her rapt attention and the 
tender light in her eyes; yet, as a Minister of God, 
he craved fuller evidence that her heart was en- 
tirely fixed upon her God and Saviour. 

August 22d, 1847. 
My dear Children — There has not been for an 
hour since I last wrote, a favorable symptom in our 
beloved Julia's disease. Dr. Burke has watched 
with us, at her bedside, night after night. AVe have 
seen her poor frame slowly wasting away from 
suffering, She is yet lingering on these mortal 
shores ; but we cannot expect to liave her with us, 
for many days longer. ""^ %v >i< ^k * 

To Victor Audubon. 

August 29th. 

Alas, the only change is for the worse. It grati- 
fied our poor invalid to have birds, and I travelled 
miles daily through the mountains to procure tliem ; 
now she cannot eat them — my occupation is gone, 
I have no employment, and seem daily less fitted for 
any. God help us in our sorrows ! 

I still cherished the hope that we might have the 
satisfaction of removing her to our peaceful home. 
Xow I know that I must abandon it wholly. * "^ 

As the deepest, highest love ever desires to man- 
ifest itself in service to the beloved, the very diffi- 
culty he experienced in procuring game, among the 

2oi John BacJanan. 

bare mountains, to tempt his daughter's failing appe- 
tite, was to him a source of satisfaction ; now lie 
writes gloomily — " 3fy occvpatwn is gone, I have no 
employment left" Thus we oft-times cry, while the 
Master is but preparing us, for nobler duties and 
far higher service. 

Red SuLrHUR Springs, Monday, Sept. 6th, 1847. 

M}^ dear Children — My last letter detailed to you 
the ho})eless, almost dying condition of our beloved 

0! how I have wished, that when this hour came, 
she might be in her own blessed home, and close 
her eyes, in the midst of her loved ones, and be laid 
to rest, at the side of her gentle, sainted mother. 

Dear Julia, I find, had long been deeply concerned 
with regard to her religious state, and had sought 
the light of God's Word with prayer 

1 had left my home, my other children and other 
duties, to devole myself to Ijer. I had brouglit her 
over these rugged mountains, carrying her in my 
arms in and out of the carriage. I had guarded her 
cabin from noise and intrusion; and, now, it was 
my duty, to instruct and to aid her in her search 
after perfect peace. Fervently we prayed together, 
and long we wept. Still she desired more light, 
greater assurance of forgiveness, and stronger evi- 
dence of God's mercy. Our prayers have now all 
been heard. Yesterday was a l3lessed Sabbath to us. 
Through the mercy of Him who died for her on the 
cross, she has found hope, comfort, peace and joy. 
For hours yesterday, she spoke of the past, the 
present, and the future. Her eyes were bright and 
her mind clear ; her perceptions keen and her judg- 
ment strong ; her words were submissive and lier 

Julia M. Bachman. 235 

prayers fervent. Her whole soul was so full of tlie 
love of God, and the mercy of her Saviour, that she 
seemed, almost to forget her great sufferings. The 
fear of death was entirely removed, and she triumph- 
antly exclaimed, " ! death where is thy sting, O ! (jrave 
ivhere is thy victory ! Thanks he unto God who giveth 
us the victory through Jesus Christ our Ijordy We all 
united in the Holy Communion. The tender mess- 
ages of love she sent to each of you, will he detailed 
to you hy your aunt and sister. 

She began with " my dear sister Jane," and ended 
with " dear brother (W. E. Haskell), who was so 
very kind to me when my mother died, and prayed 
for me, when I could not pray for myself and was 
ready to despair." I have no words to express the 
propriety of her thoughts and the fond devotion of 
her language. 

Yes, there is a solemn reality in religion that 
effects a change in the whole mind and heart, and 
brings under its influence every thought, word, and 
action. This seems to be i-ealized here. All music 
is hushed, ^hiny sympathizing friends are stand- 
ing around our cottage weeping ; and a solemnity 
and stillness reigns throughout this hitlicrto noisy 
and thoughtless throng. 

Will you not, my dear children, seek for that 
religious knowledge and firm faith, that sustained 
your departed sisters in their last hours of trial, and 
enabled your meek and gentle mother to pass 
through the world loving and beloved. Let their 
Saviour be our Saviour, and their heaven our ever- 
lasting home. 

With love to all. * * ^— ^ .1. B. 

Sei*temp,er 18th, 1847. 
I detailed to you daily, my dear children, Julia's 
bodily condition and her peaceful frame of mind. 

236 John Bacltmcm. 

When I closed my letter on Monday evening, neither 
Dr. Burke, her kind physician, nor myself, believed 
that our beloved Julia had strength remaining to 
survive through the night. T was more than satis- 
fied with her state of preparation for the approach- 
ing event, and prayed for her removal in the same 
peaceful, hopeful and confiding frame of mind. 

Her paroxysms of pain were frequent, but she 
Avould rest afterwards with her eyes closed. At day- 
light, as I sat by her bedside, she breathed so softly 
that for an hour I listened, expecting to hear her 
last sigh. She opened her eyes. " Father, ' she said, 
" I am ready now for the morning prayer ; " and as 
we prayed, she repeated my words. When I had 
concluded, she begged me to lie down and rest. To 
please her I left the room. An hour later she called 
for me. " Father," she whispered, '' You remember 
Miss C. S., who was so kind to me at Aiken ; who 
came every day to comfort me, and, by her words 
and example, to remind me of my duty to God ? 
When you return to Charleston, tell her how grate- 
fully I remember her kindness, and tell her that the 
friend with whom she sympathized so deepl}^, is 
more happy on her deathbed than she can find 
words to describe." She asked for her dear sister L., 
and the scene of tenderness and love exhibited was 
overpowering. She detailed in language appro- 
priate, her convictions from time to time ; her sub- 
sequent coldness of heart ; her prayers and her fears, 
amounting almost to despair. She told of the grad- 
ual steps b}^ which the Almighty hand had led her 
to see her need of a Saviour, and the light that broke 
in upon her mind ; the assurances of pardon and 
the bright hopes that raised her above the fear of 
death. She called down upon her sister L., her 
watchful nurse and companion, the choicest mercies 
of heaven. She spoke of the joyful meeting with 

Julia M. BacJiman. 237 

mother and sisters that awaited her. She was by this 
time greatly exhausted. I bade her close her eyes 
and try to rest. She obeyed and slept about half 
an hour. She opened her eyes, a thought had come 
into her mind ; " Father," she said, " Should one, so 
much blest as I have been, spend an hour in slum- 
ber ? Should not every moment of the short rem- 
nant of life be spent in praising my blessed Re- 
deemer?" When I told her that nature required 
repose, she assented. A little later, " Father, when 
the time comes, you must pray wath me, I wish to 
go to heaven borne on the wings of my father's 
prayers." The thought was original and beautiful, 
as well as tender and contiding. She had paroxysms 
of pain, and at intervals slight wanderings of mind. 
We moistened her lips, and she became quiet and 
composed. She w^as evidently dying; once more 
she spoke : " My time has come. Now, father, now 
pray." Her hands were clasped, and her eyes, full 
of animation and hope, were raised with an intently 
fixed gaze toward heaven. I looked upon her face, 
the spirit had departed, and that broken prayer, 
begun for the dying, ended in imploring mercy and 
compassion for the stricken members of her house- 
hold. Dr. Burke, her kmd, intelligent physician, 
was supporting her head, and he closed her eyes. 
In death her face was like that of an angel, but her 
short religious life was brighter still. O my chil- 
dren, will you not profit by this lesson ! 


Yesterday; (Tuesday, September, 7th), at two 
o'clock, our dear Julia, the object of our pride, and 
recently of our loving sympathy and unwearied 
watching, w^as called to her peaceful rest. Her 
body will be interred this afternoon. 

I have written down her messages to you all, en- 

238 John Bacliman. 

deavoring to use her own words, but tlie love that 
shone in her countenance, and the fervor of the soft 
and gentle tones of her voice, no language can 

For some time before her death she had expected 
the event and sought, by the help of God, to prepare 
for it. Yet, she concealed her impression from us, 
for fear of giving us pain. When she disclosed her 
mind to me, I found that she had already advanced 
far in the Christian life. She lost every fear of 
death, and her hopes became brighter and brighter. 
"She was waiting," she said, "'for the joyful hour, 
when her Saviour would call her to His blessed 
arms." Her natural reserve and timidity were 
thrown off. There was a purity of thought and a 
propriety of language, that indicated that we had 
never sufficiently appreciated the powers of her 
mind. Her aunt Maria likened it to inspiration. 
While still on earth she seemed to partake of the 
angelic character. I have never witnessed in my 
long ministry so triumphant a death. 

We are, as you may suppose, worn with watching 
and sorrow, and w^ill, therefore, linger for a week at 
'• Blue Sulphur " for rest. 

Think not that grief has unmanned me. I trust 
in God, and I will not repine. My energies will 
soon be restored, and I shall seek to perform the 
manifold duties that are yet enjoined upon me. 

The departed had said to Dr. Burke, " Promise 
not to give me anodynes to deaden pain ; I w^ould 
far rather bear the greatest suffering, than to have 
my intellect clouded in the smallest degree ;" and to 
her Father, " Remember, bury me here ; do not take 
my body over these rough, steep mountains, it is un- 
necessary trouble and expense. I can rest here just 

Mia M. Bachman. 239 

as well — and when my Lord comes, He will know 
where to find me ; and I shall hear and know His 
voice, and rise to meet Him." 


Red Sulpher Springs, September 10th, 1(S47. 

My dear beloved Daughter : My letters addressed 
to Haskell and Wm., (his son) detailed to you the 
peaceful and triumphant close of our dear Julia's 
life. The mails are very irregular, still I hope they 
eame to hand in due time. 

Our beloved Julia was interred in the Cemetery 
at this place yesterday, at 2 P. M. Several Carolin- 
ians, I perceived, had found a resting place near the 
spot. The funeral services were performed and an 
address delivered by a Presbyterian Clergyman, 
Rev. Mr. Cunningham. Nearly all the visitors at 
the Springs were present. 

I have had the body enclosed in a double case, as 
we may, in the future, deem it best to remove it. I 
have just returned from paying my last sad visit to 
the spot where our beloved Julia rests ; the Cemetery 
is two miles from the Springs ; but I felt that, in ali 
human probability, I should never be here again. 
It is now half past 5 o'clock A. M., and I devote the 
few moments left me before we begin our homeward 
journe}^ in writing to my dear, devoted and much 
loved daughter. 

My duty to the departed has now been performed, 
as far as I was able ; and I will try to give my re- 
maining strength and energies to those who are still 
left to me, and to the other manifold duties of my 

The regular line of stages has been discontinued, 
and we find that it will only be in our power to go to 

240 John Bachman. 

the Blue Sulpher. There we shall be able to find 
retirement. Your aunt and L., both need to recruit 
and gain strength for our fatiguing homeward 
journey over the mountains : we will return by the 
way of the White Sulpher, through Staunton and 
Charlotteville to Richmond. We may not be with 
you sooner than two or three weeks hence. I must 
nurse up my poor sufferers. In the meantime, do not 
make yourselves uneasy about them. They are 
better this morning, and are packing up for the 
journe}'. I have -just inquired and find that they 
passed a comfortable night. Dr. Burke, our very kind 
physician, goes with us, and I trust that the accounts 
you will receive of our further journey may be en- 
couraging. I would not have my cliildren to mourn 
over-much for the happy dead. 

Not until our Julia's last days on earth, did I 
learn her deep thoughts on religious subjects, and 
her clear views of the plan of salvation. I had 
watched over Julia with deep concern, and fervently 
I had prayed for His spiritual peace to comfort her. 
When tlie end came, I rejoiced over her unshaken 
faith and trust in the merits of her Saviour. Her 
perfect submission, and her exalted hopes, exceeded 
by far, anything I had ever witnessed. The part- 
ing scenes — the invoking of blessings — the beauty 
of her countenance — the brightness of her eye, and 
the thrilling tones of her voice, were overpowering^ 
Dr. Burke, says, ''sublime, angelic.'' 

I pray God to instruct, to support and to guide 
my house. I do not stand in need of human sympa- 
thy. God has abundantly supported me. 

Write, my beloved children — Avrite cheerfully to 
your aunt and sister. I\it the best face upon all re- 
lating to our home, and say everything that you 
can, to wake them up to hope and cheerfulness. 
God bless you all. * * * * 

Jidia M. Bachman. 241 

To W. G. R Y, M. D. : 

Blue Sulphur Springs, Se^.t. lltli. 

AVe left the Red Sulphur Springs yesterday morn- 
ing and arrived here in the evening, (a distance of 
about thirty-four miles). The travelling and change 
of location has operated favorably upon us all — 
worn as we were by watching and sorrow. 

We expect to remain ten days here and then go 
directly home. 

You have been informed of our recent heav}' 
alfiiction, and of the extraordinary evidences that 
our dear Julia gave of her trust in God — and her as- 
surance of heaven. She left messages for you, (her 
physician). " When you go home, father," she said, 
*' Send for my Doctor, in your study, and give these 
messages, as coming from one who has only a few 
days to live. Return my thanks to him for his 
kind and unwearied attendance upon me. Tell 
him, had it been the will of God that I should re- 
cover, his skill would have saved me ; but He, who 
is the All-wise, has willed that I should die early. 
Perhaps, He foresaw that if 1 lived, I should be 
worldly and forget my duty to Him. Instead of life, 
He has given me a joy in my heart that I would 
not exchange for the pleasures and riches of ten 
thousand worlds. 

^' Tell him to forgive me, if I have misunderstood 
liim ; but it struck me, either from his words or his 
manner, that he was skeptical in religion, and ex- 
pected to merit heaven by leading a moral life. I, a 
sinner, plucked as it were a brand from the burn- 
ing, want to tell him, that I never found peace, 
until T cast behind me hiy own righteousnes>(, and by 
repentance, prayer and faith, rested alone on tJie 
merits of my Saviour. I was alwa3^s a believer from 
education ; but never felt the power of religion, till 

242 Johi Bachman. 

I became as uotTiiny, and my Saviour, my all in all. 
Give him and his my love and farewell, and say 
that I fondly hope and pray, that in heaven we may 
be united in one family." 

I have endeavored to use her exact words ; but the 
impressive manner, the countenance beaming with 
intelligence, faith and hope, and the tones of her 
soft voice — these I cannot convey — I have no words 
that would give you an idea of the scene. 

I have been greatly surprised at my own want of 
penetration, in not discovering before, Julia's powers 
of mind, I knew that she was a constant reader : 
my library gave evidence that she selected books 
that I supposed above her comprehension, and not 
adapted to the taste of one so 3^oung. But she loved 
to be alone, and she seems to have had a world of 
thought within herself, into which even her father 
and sisters were not permitted to enter. A reserve 
hung over lier, from which I could not wean her. 
AVlien she found, however, tliat she liad only a few 
days to live, she unburdened her wliole heart to me. 
and I felt as if in the presence of a superior being. 
She permitted friends to visit her, and cheerfully 
conversed with all. Dr. Burke pronounced her the 
most intelligent and spiritual being, that lie had 
ever met with. There was ]io undue enthusiasm 
about her, and her countenance, words and manner, 
were singularly in unison. It seemed as though 
she possessed a premonition of her appointed time: 
•' Father," she said, " Sunday is for the Holy Com- 
munion, Monday, to dictate messages to famil}^ and 
friends, and Tuesday, to die;" and tlius it was. 

She had desired to leave the world on the wings 
of her father's prayers, and in the attitude of prayer 
her spirit ascended to her God. * * "^^ 

Jidia M. Bachiaan. 243 

Dr. Bachman decided, that in accordance with 
his daughter's directions, the precious dust should 
not be removed. 

A. simple slab of white Italian marble marks the 

Sacred to the Memorv 


daughter of the Rev. John and Harriet Bachman, 
of Charleston, S. C, 
wdio died at the Red Sulphur Springs, 
September 8th, 1847 — aged 21 years 11 months. 
Young, lovely, and beloved, she was early called 
away — far from her home and her many dear 
and valued friends ; 
but faith and Christian hope, sustained and sup- 
ported her through the dark valle}" and 
shadow of death ; 
and, to the few loved ones, who were permitted to 
linger near her at the parting hour, 
her calm and triumphant death seemed but a 
translation from earth to heaven. 

"Weep not for her! slie died in early youtli 
Ere hope had lost its rich romantic hues, 
When human bosoms seemed the home of truth, 

And earth still gleamed with beauty's radiant dews. 
Her Summer prime waned not to days that freeze, 
Her wine of life was run not to the lees; 
Weep not for her I" 

The letter given below, dated twelve years later, 
shows that the pathetic love between the Pastor of 
St. John's and his l)eautiful daughter, was still re- 
membered in the valley of \^irginia. It was written 

244. John Bachnian. 

by a Minister (Episcopal), of South Carolina, who, at 
that time, was not personally acquainted with Dr. 
Bachman. A bunch of evergreens and wild flowers 
accompanied the letter — the bright Golden Rod was 
scarcely faded, though the busy hands that had 
gathered the memento, were already at rest under 
the sod. 

October 3rd, 1859. 

Rev. and dear Sir — During our visit to the 
Virginia Springs, Mrs. E., myself, and our little boy 
visited the grave of your beloved daughter in the 
cemetery near the Red Sulphur Springs ; the spot 
was kindly pointed out to us by Mrs. D. We cut 
the evergreens from a tree standing at the East end 
of the grave, in the space between it and the monu- 
ment over Gov. Alston's remains. The flowers were 
gathered from the grave itself. Knowing full well 
the strength and tenderness of parental affection, it 
has afforded us sincere pleasure to gather and present 
these faded mementoes of one, Avho though long- 
since departed, yet, doubtless, remains fresh and 
green in your memory. Accept them as the offerings 
of Christian regard. 

This incident is now, to us, invested with thrilling 
interest. The little hands and feet, mind and lips,. 
so busy on this day, (three weeks since), in the 
work of affection, have all been stilled and hushed 
in silence ; and all that was mortal of our dear boy, 
rest too, in a distant grave. A sudden and un- 
expected attack brought deep sorrow to our hearts, 
as it tore him aw^ay from us. Yet we mourn not. 
as those without hope. A merciful God has early 
translated him to His garden above, where his leaf 
will never fade or wither ; his Inight and joyous 
life has been exchanged for one brighter still,. 

Julia M. Bachman. 245 

and still more glorious in the kingdom of our Re- 

I am sure that we need not ask for your sympa- 
thy, nor for your remembrance at a throne of Grace. 

Being no stranger to your character and services 
in our Master's cause, I am confident that you will 
not deem it a liberty when I subscribe myself, very 
respectfully and sincerely, 

Your Brother in the Ministry, 

Stephen Elliott. 

Thirty-seven years later (1884), John Haskell was, 
as he expressed it, '* passing out of love's clear sight 
to join the larger family on the other side." He had 
received the Holy Eucharist, and felt that it was 
his last Communion on earth — with his grand- 
father's child-like faith, he whispered : " I shall be 
the first to see Aunt Julia." 

If the appointed biographer desired that this 
Chapter in his grandfather's life should be written 
in full, it was because the letters that detailed the 
brief life and triumphant death of his young kins- 
woman stirred his inmost soul. 

I think that he might have closed this Chapter 
in his Grandfather's appealing words : 

*' Oh my children, will you not profit by this 
lesson ? " 



Professor and Students. 

Depression of spirits — kevivai, of hope — narrow escape 
from loss of eyesight — letters to victor audubox 
aviim.e publishing quadrupeds of north america — 
agassi/ — attends a meeting of general synod, con- 
vened at new york — visits audubon— letter from hon. 
mitchell kin(; — elected to chair of natural history 
in charleston (^ollege — ^anecdotes. 

WE resume our narrative, October, 1847. The 
devoted physician, Dr. Burke, hastened the 
departure of Dr. Bachman and his family from the 
'• Red Sulphur." He accompanied them to the 
" Blue Sulphur," and, before leaving, commended 
them to the care and attention of the host and resi- 
dent physician. 

A fortniglit was spent liere, during this time Dr. 
Bachman wrote to his friend Audubon : " My daugh- 
ter L. is broken down ; I do not like her symptoms, 
still I ascribe them to fatigue and excitement, and 
trust that change of scene and the quiet of her 
liome may speedily restore her to health." 

In the following letter to his son-in-law, we see 
his brave spirit shrinking appalled from the future 
— to his sad eyes graves are still yawning to receive 
his children : 

Forebodings. 247 

Charleston, October 28111, 1847. 

My Dear Victor : I have had an anxious time 
since I left Richmond. There seemed to be no alle- 
viation of my daughter L \s distressing symp- 
toms. After our return home she appeared to grow 
worse, rather than better. Dr. Horlbeck called in 
Dr. Geddings as consulting physician — for L. seemed 
to me sinking for lack of nourishment. One by 
one I have seen my children swept to the grave ; 
we have not been out of mourning for years ; and 
now I know not but that further and equally heavy 
trials await me. Say to my old friend Audubon, 
God bless him, and save him from the sorrows and 
trials that have desolated my path for years. * * * 

But the light is breaking and the shadows tieeing-^ 
away. The following extracts from a letter show 
that the hopeful spirit was not crushed, but only 
over-shadowed for a moment. 

To THE Same: 

October 29th, 1847. 

" 1 may be mistaken, but I think that there is a 
decided change for the better in L.'s condition. 
Although I have often before been disa})pointed, 
yet whenever there is the slightest improvement my 
spirits revive and, perhaps, I hope too much. Yet 
it maybe fortunate for me in the end that it is thus. 
The rest of us are well. 

My son Wilson is attending the lectures in the 
Medical College, and my boy AVilliam is doing well 
at the Charleston College. Att'ectionate remem- 
brance and love to all, in which the whole family 
unite, especially to the dear little folk. 

248 John Bachman. 

To Victor G. and John AV. Audubon : 

October oOth. ' 

*' I began this letter a few days ago, but laid it 
aside. I could not write about quadrupeds. 

Before this reaches you, you will have heard de- 
tails of our domestic trials; yet if I am not mis- 
taken all the worst symptoms in L.'s case have 
lessened. But in this letter I intend to confine 
myself to the object I have in view, namely, to write 
about (juadrupeds." 

(Several j^ages of descriptions of the same follow.) 
The letter closes thus : 

'' Now I have a })roposition to make to you. Just 
ciome to Charleston with your brushes; bring with 
you the White Hare from the West, and all speci- 
mens about which you have a doubt ; come to us 
during the latter week in Novanber — we shall get 
tlie Deer. After some labor and trouble I have 
secured a Bear ; the Otter and Mouse we will have 
too But what is most important, we shall make 
arrangements for the completion of the work. 

We could togetlier do more in three weeks, than 
could otherwise be accomplished in six months. If 
you would bring the little grandchildren, so much 
the l^etter ; but, at any rate, bring yourself. I have 
much to say to you — perhaps, your presence would 
divert my mind, and help to relieve me from a load 
of oppression that I am trying to shake off — that 
the windows of my cliamber might once again be 
opened. If I could only again fix my mind intently 
on some one object of pursuit, I think that I would 
feel better. Come to us — I have a room for you, so 
has Desel, and Haskell has bought a plantation, 
only a morning's drive from Charleston. There are 

^ynod. 24U 

deer in abundance, and you can paint them on the 

On Monday I shall write you again, if J., grows 

no worse I have a world of things to say to you. 

* '.x * ■>:• * "* " >:-- 

I am just packing up to go to a meeting of our 
Synod to be held in the Western part of Georgia : I 
expect to leave Charleston in an hour, and be absent 
for nine days. 

My mind has become gradually more and more 
relieved with regard to my daughter L. Her spirits, 
that were depressed by recent atiiictions, have re- 
gained their elasticity. Dr. Horlbeck has sent her a 
pony, and she is able to ride out every day. 

Now Master John, who writes such short and such 
Tcry unsatisfactori/ letters about quadrupeds, I will 
make a bargain with you. Come on during the 
winter, or if you cannot, write me more fully. Be a 
good boy and confess that for a man that can hold 
a pen, you are a mo^t backward correspondent, then 
I shall exchange visits with you. I shall come to 
you in May and bring my daughters J. and L. with 
me, and leave them with you awhile, to hear you 
and Victor grumble about that eye-sore of a railroad, 
and to enjoy your good company, and your iish and 
shrimps; aixf for a week, I can sit down with you 
and we can arrange the plates for the quadrupeds 

* '^ * There is perplexity enough — the writing part, 
I do not mind over much, but the specimens are the 
need. We cannot complete the work as we should, 
without them * =;= * x have received the speci- 
mens from Lieut. Albert. The large Hare is a good 
specimen and will help me much — but is the only 
good one in the lot. John, you draw and paint well. 
I recognized your Hare from a shabby specimen in 
the Zoological Museum. * * * Thehour is here, and 
I must start, I shall write on my return. 

1250 John Bachman, 

To VicTOK Audubon. 

Charleston, December 13th, 1847. 

My dear Victor — " I have been unable to write to 
you for ten days. I had returned from the meeting 
of the Synod in Georgia, and had but two days at 
home, when a sad accident befell me, which, but for 
Ood's providence, might have rendered me for the 
rest of niy days like Milton, blind and sad. 

I had prepared a mixture of gunpowder, sulphur 
and lard to anoint a mangy dog, and gave it to Sam, 
our little servant to carry to the yard. I was in- 
tently engaged in writing, seated by the fire witli 
my feet on the fender. In his wisdom, Sam sup- 
posed that the lard should be melted, and he clapped 
it on the fire, about eighteen inches from my nose — 
an explosion took place something like that of a 
cannon — it was nearly half a pound of powder. I 
was knocked over — saved twenty-five cents in hair- 
cutting, lost my eye lashes and eyelids, and was 
laid on my back for ten days, with grated Irish 
potato poultices as a remedy. Nothing but my 
.spectacles, (bless them), saved my eyes from total 
blindness. I have now a new skin from forehead to 
chin. Yesterday I left the dark room, and looked 
again upon the light of heaven, and my eyes are so 
much better to-day, that I have been able to show 
you the scratch of my pen." * * * * 

December 18th. This should have been sent to 
you, but I was compelled once more to remain in a 
dark room. I was there for five days. I am now 
quite better, (save my eyelashes and eyebrows.) I 
«hall preach to-morrow, I hope ; I see as well as ever 
to-day, only I cannot bear a glare of light. This is 
Saturday morning, and I am preparing for Sunday. 
I have several extra duties at Church — a Confirma- 
tion, and Communion. * * * * 

^^rL 25.1: 

December 24th. 

There has been some fatality attending our letters, 
but, by repetitions and cross-questioning, all will 
come well at last. 

During the leisure of the last few days, I have been 
engaged in carefully examining the plates up to one 
hundred and twenty. My favorable opinion with 
regard to the execution of the drawings and litho- 
graph, remain unchanged. John now figures quad- 
rupeds, as well as his father ever drew birds in his 
palmiest days. I am surprised and delighted with 
the very superb figures he has made. What would 
I not give for some of his notes (for he has a dis- 
criminating eye and is an excellent judge of char- 
acter). It is a pity that one who can use his brush 
so well, should be dilatory in using his pen. Tell 
liim I want him to write out his opinion of the 
species he has figured in Europe. 

I am working for your book with great pleasure 
now. I take as great an interest in your fame and 
welfare, as when our Maria and Eliza were by your 
side. For some time past my trials nearly over- 
powered my mental energies. I feel my sorrows 
.still, though they are less intense. All absorbing oc- 
cupation helps me. Although I often think deeply 
and sorrowfully of the past, I am not in the habit 
of speaking of private griefs, and shall not again 
trouble my friends with this subject. 

We have received your Christmas gifts, and shall 
feast on them soon. Accept our thanks. (An Eng- 
lish pudding, etc). 

December 31st. 

I have just returned from HaskelFs plantation ; 
the weather was rainy, cold and blustering ; I am 
wet and chilly, and I fear, will not be in the most 
placid humor in the world, and would prefer, there- 

252 John Bachman. 

fore, to postpone my letter for a day ; but as Maria 
is sending a box to your mother, I must write a few 
lines, at least. 

I send two mice. John, I find, can make a good 
deal out of almost nothing — he will do something 
with, these. I thank him much for liis notes, they 
will help famously : but J must get more out of 
him. '^'" '■' '"' * * 

I am liard at work among the quadrupeds : you 
could not have sent me a more perplexing list of 
questions, than those I am required to answer. But 
I am glad tliat you have done so, it has compelled 
me to look over your old letters for a year past, and I 
have been able this rainy day to overliaul most 
thoroughly the Hares. * '-^ 

On to-morrow, I am to have a long conversation 
Avith Agassiz in my study, and I shall write you 
what he says in full. I find Agassi/'s opinion, 
which I prize more than any man's in America, 
most favorable to our letter-press and engravings, 
(Quadrupeds of N, A.) He says that it has not its 
e(|ual in Europe, in this department. I know that 
he is sincere, for he is candid ; but alas, alas, we are 
sadly in want of material. I am ready to lesume 
my work — it is a hard job; but I do it with very 
great pleasure. 

We find during this year (1847), few letters from 
Bachman to Audubon, and none in the hand-writ- 
ing of the latter. The panacea, perfect rest, pre- 
scribed by physicians, restored Audubon apparently 
to physical health, but the noble intellect remained 
partially obscured. 

The friends had undertaken with enthusiasm, the 
joint publication of ''The Quadrupeds of North 

Agassiz. 253 

America." A new and difficult field in Natural His- 
tory lay open before them, demanding close invest! - 
oation and patient experiment. But such toil was 
congenial to these ardent students of the Book of 
Nature ; and their labors were lightened by com- 
panionship and sympathy. Whose eye but the 
Omniscient could see the gathering cloud, and wlio 
dreamed that before the last number of the first 
volume was published, the work-day of life for the 
gifted Audubon would be ended. But so it was. 

The plates for the ''Quadrupeds" were provided 
for ; John Audubon painted the animals and Victor 
the landscapes and other backgrounds, and Miss 
Martin continued to contribute Southern flowers, 
etc.; but without Audubon, Bachman stood alone 
in the letter-press, for the sons of Audubon were 
artists, and not naturalists. Under these circum- 
stances, Dr. Bachman hailed with delight the arrival 
in Charleston of Professor Louis Agassiz, the dis- 
tinguished Naturalist, at that time Professor of 
Natural History in Harvard College. 

Bachman had followed with deep interest, the 
laborious investigations of Agassiz among the lower 
animals, and was under the impression that he liad 
also studied tlie Mammalia with equal care. Agassiz, 
with his accustomed truthfulness and candor, unde- 
ceived him. It was a great disappointment to him, 
for in the publication of the Quadrupeds he sorely 
felt the need of consultation with otlier scientists. 

254 John Bachman. 

To Victor and John Audubon : 

January 6th, 1848, 

'^ Your letters are two weeks on the passage, and 
mine, if they reach you at all, travel as slowly. Last 
week I wrote you two full sheets about animals, 
names, etc. It cost me two days' work : has it been 
received ? Write forthwith. 

Alas ! Agassiz cannot help me; he know^s nothing 
about Quadrupeds, scarcely one of our animals, and 
not those of his own country. 

The late T. O. Summer, I). 1). (of the Methodist 
Church), Dean of the Theological Faculty of Van- 
derbilt University, Tennessee, has left a manuscript, 
entitled " Personal Recollections of Dr. Bacliman." 

He writes: " When the Scientific Association met 
in Charleston, Dr. Bachman had the distinguished 
Agassiz frequently for a guest. One day, pointing 
to the skin of a fox, the Doctor said, playfully, 
* Agassiz, you know that fellow? • ' No,' said Agas- 
siz. ' Why,' exclaimed the Doctor, ' That is the fox 
of your own native forests.' Agassiz remarked : ' I 
know very little of mammals.' He had devoted 
himself chiefly to molluscs and fishes. The Doctor 
told me this to show how little value was the dic- 
tum of Agassiz in regard to the pol3^genism, which 
Avas, at that time, so vehemently asserted by many 
scientists. They wished to get Agassiz on their side, 
but he never went any farther than to advance his 
untenable hypothesis of eight Zorilogical centres, 
comprising as many autochthonous races, tljougli 
not species, of men." 

On the 14th of May, 1848, the General Synod of 
tlie J^utheran Church convened in New York Citv. 

" The Ruins of a Mvndr 255 

Dr. Bachman was a delegate to that body. In tlie 
latter part of April, he left Charleston in a sailing 
vessel bound to New York, accompanied by his 
daughters, Jane and Lynch. He writes to his family 
in Charleston, from the Audubon home : 

Minnie's Land, May 11th, 1848. 

The girls say tliat they have heard "the music 
of the minstrel's nose.'' As I sit on an arm chair, 
with my feet on the hot fender this chilly evening, 
I am half inclined to think that they were, in part, 
right : for I feel a little drowsy just now — I had 
better try to shake off lethargy by writing a few 
lines home. But how shall I collect my thoughts 
amid the din and confusion that prevail around me; 
yet I like to see these happy faces and hear tlieir 
merry laugh. 

I found all well here, as far as health is concerned. 
Mrs. Audubon is straight as an arrow, and in fine 
health, but sadly worried. John has just come in 
from feeding his dogs. Audubon has heard his 
little song sung in French, and has gone to bed. 
Alas, my poor friend Audubon ! the outlines of his 
countenance and his form are there, but his noble 
mind is all in ruins. I have often, in sadness, con- 
templated in ruin a home that, in other years, I 
have seen in order and beauty, but the ruins of a 
mind once bright and full of imagination, how- 
much more inexpressibly melancholy and gloomy. 
But why dwell upon these? I turn away from the 
subject with a feeling of indescribable sadness. * ^= =*= 

The weather has been rainy for the past four days, 
but this afternoon it was clear, but quite cold. The 
Spring here is further advanced than I expected to 
find it, tlie fruit trees are in full bloom, and the 
grass of a dark green. The woods and the grounds 

250 John Bachman. 

are full of the melody of singing birds. There are 
not less than twenty wood-robins, whose notes can 
be heard in this vicinity. A red-breast has built a 
nest in the cherry-tree, near the piazza ; the pee-wee 
is building close by, ancl the robins have found a 
home here. I, too, would willingly linger, but I 
must be on the wing. Day after to-morrow I expect 
to take the girls with me to New York, during the 
meeting of Sjaiod. I want them to see a little of 
this great city. 

I am working away among the Quadrupeds ; 
and, if I had nothing else to do, could spend a month 
here with great satisfaction ; but as it is, time is 
passing, and I must soon turn my face homewards. 
1 do not yet know if the girls will decide to return 
Avith me. 

Mrs. Audubon is going into the city maid-hunt- 
ing, to-morrow morning, and I shall send this letter 
by her to be posted. 

Tell Master John Bacliman (Haskell), that these 
little folk, of all sizes, sit and play all day in my 
room, and do not touch the specimens ; if my little 
restless, roaring, tearing dog was here, he would 
make the fur fly, as well as the heads and the tails. 
All send love to Aunt Maria, and to the girls and 

Your aflectionate father, J. B. 


The two sons of Audubon were both united in 
marriage a second time; John, to Miss Caroline 
Hall, of England ; and Victor, to Miss Georgiana 
Mallory, of New York. 

The first born of these marriages were daughters. 
John Audubon's daughter, at baptism, was named, 
Maria R.; and Victor's, Mary Eliza. The heart of the 

General Synod at New YorJc. 257 

Pastor of St. John's was inexpressibly touched by 
this unselfish tribute to the memory of his idolized 
daughters. The wives of his sons-in-law were to 
him, from that hour, as his own beloved daughters- 
in-law, and their children as his grandchildren. 

New York City, May 16th, 1848. 

'' I yesterday received my first letter from home, 
and we were much gratified at its contents. I am 

glad that A is safe and well ; may the little 

girl live to marry a man, who will be fit to become 
the future President of the United States. Love 
and congratulations to H. and to A., and kiss this 
precious lump of mortality for us all. 

I was somewhat surprised and a little amused at 
your fears with regard to the hail-storm. It must 
have been infinitely more severe on shore than on 
sea. The largest hail I saw was not much larger 
than a musket ball. There was just a tolerable 
squall. We had a very prudent and careful Captain. 
The vessel was all in order when the squall struck 
us ; there was, in reality, nothing to alarm an old 
sailor like myself, who has seen storms compared to 
which the present was like a pigmy to a giant. I 
think that L. was a little frightened, but the fright 
soon passed off' — danger there was none. The 
voyage on the whole was a very pleasant one ; we 
were saved from the bustle and jarring of a steamer, 
and our pockets were fuller by thirty dollars. 

I have brought the girls to New York ; but I fear 
they will see little of the city. They are timid ; I 
am busy at Synod and have not half an hour to go 

out with them. We are staying at E 's : his son 

will take J. and L. in their carriage and show them 
the city and the lions this afternoon. Later in the 
evening they propose to return to Minnie's Land 

258 John Bach man. 

with Victor. I somewhat regret it, as I want them 
to see a little more of this great and wicked city. 

New York appears to me like another London in 
miniature. . Broadway contains at all hours of the 
day a moving mass of human beings. If you are 
on the sidewalks, you are elbowed and jostled; if you 
cross the street you are in danger that the wlieels of 
an omnibus may crush your foot, if not your neck. 
If you stand still you may have your pockets picked, 
and if you run the cry of " stop thief" will follow 

Yet, after all, New York is not a bad place. 
Though it is busy and bustling, people are polite 
and well-dressed, and the fashions are not very 
unlike those in Charleston. I think that more 
wealthy young men attend to business here than 
with us. Of abolition I hear not a word. New 
York seems prospering in a very high degree, and is 
destined to become one of the largest cities in the 
world. As I looked at the many pretty women in 
Broadway, I thouglit that no love-sick swain had 
any reason to hang himself if jilted, inasmuch as the 
vacuum in his heart might so easily be filled up 
with one of the crowd that always seem ready to fill 
up every vacant gap. 

I am constantly interru}>ted while writing, and 

feel that my mind is like our old friend S 's, "all 

scattered about." ""' * * * 

I think the Synod will not adjourn until the end 
of this week. It is a large body, and every one 
wishes to make a speech. I am chairman in an 
ugly business, intrusted to me by a Western Synod — 
a poor fellow is in trouble, and I fear that things 
are against him. 

I shall probably, return home in a steamer, and 
shall certainly be with you before Sunday, 28th of 
Mav. God bless vou all. 

His Eyes, 259 

' Leaving his daughters in tlie hospitable home of 
Audubon, he returned to hll his pulpit at the time 

To HIS Dauohter Jane : 

Charleston, Aug. 27th, '48. 

It was a delightful day to me, when your letter 
dated the 18th, was handed to me. I have read it 
the second time ; it is characterized by strong good 
sense, and there is such a propriety in your thoughts 
and expressions that I could not fail to be proud of 
my daughter. Then I felt convinced that your eyes 
were better — for you kept accurately to the blue 
lines on the paper. May we soon have reason to re- 
joice in a permanent cure of your eyes. " '•'■ 

I too, suffer, at present, from my eyes : I cannot 
read much and scarceh' venture to write ; I suppose 
I have taken off my spectacles a dozen times since 
I began this letter. I may have to give up reading 
and writinoj altoo ether, which would be to me a verv 
great deprivation, but I am prepared to do so with- 
out one murmur or complaint. Cbme daughter 
Jane, let us make a bet of a qtiart of ice-cream, and 
see wliich of us can first find a needle in a haystack. 

-)f ^ -X- * 

Well, daughter L , wliat shall 1 say to you; 

are you home-sick, child? No! everything to you 
is yet the color of the rose. Give my love and a kiss 
to the Audubon ladies; the old girl is a diamond, 
the others are gold. 

Come here my granddaughters — my Lucy and 
my dumpty Harriet, let me kiss you and tumble 
you about. I hear that you are obedient and 
affectionate to your grandparents and parents, and 
that you improve in music and other studies. You 
must learn to play, chat and read for grand-pa 

2G0 John Bad i) nan. 

Bacliman, to cheer him when he is old, and the 
grasshopper has become a burden. 

Now, dear Jane, I must stop — the others know 
more gossip, and their letters will be more interest- 
ing than mine. I only write to show you that you 
are in all my tlioughts, and in my prayers. I am 
living only for my duty to God, and for my child- 
ren's happiness — when all goes well with them my 
mind is at peace. 

May God watch over my dear daughters, and may 
we soon meet again in health and with grateful 

Tell L. to guess which of the daughters will 
receive the next letter from, 

Your atfectionate father, 

J. Bachmax. 
To V. G. Audubon : 

Chaklf:stox, October 20th, 1848. 

My dear Victor — In regard to plate No. 30, I can- 
not give a name until I am certain that no one has 
named it before me. 

No. 1. PoiLched Rat from Georgia. 

This animal was described in the New York Med- 
ical Repositary, January 1821 — Get and copy the 
description for me. I will send you by to-morrow's 
steamer a living one. I have had it all Summer : it 
is a gentle and most pleasant companion of mine, 
eating from my hand, and looking at and seeming to 
talk with me. If John cannot figure the one he has 
already, he must try his hand on this, but don't 
kill my pet, if you can avoid it. I take it out by 
the tail and hold it in my hand, and it has never at- 
tempted to bite me. You perceive it has a naked 
tail. If Mitchell's animal has a short naked tail, 
then we must give this fellow a new name. * * * 

You have, I think, specimens of both the Southern 

Professor m Charleston. College. 261 

Pouched Rats — the Florida and Georgia species ; 
they greatly resemble each other — so do all the 

A list of descriptions of plates follow. 
He continues : 

" Last evening I used my ej^es by candle-light for 
the first time. Dr. Frost has me in hand * ^ ''^' 
I at least fancy that my eyes are a shade better, but 
I am obliged to be bat-like and avoid the light. 

Soon I shall go to work again on the quadrupeds. 
The work was begun before either your father or 
myself were quite ready. You see how I am situ- 
ated, and you must be patient. I have imperative 
duties. I will aid you all that I can, but I cannot 
consent to endanger my eye-sight, and when I begin 
to write I know tliat I cannot stop. Love to all. 

1\\ the Spring of 1848, Dr. Bach man received a 
letter from the Chairman of the Trustees of Charles- 
ton College, (Hon. Mitcliell King), stating that 
Natural History had been added to the curriculum 
of the College, and that he had been unanimously 
elected Professor of Natural History. 

After consultation with the Vestry of his Church, 
he accepted the position. 

From LIon. Mitchell King. 

Charleston, April 14tli, 1848. 

We had the strongest confidence that you would 
accept the tendered chair in our College, and that 
your respected vestry would approve and encourage 
the acceptance ; yet, I assure you, I am delighted 
with your note just received, which tells me that 

262 John Bachman. 

confidence is now certainty ; and while I would ven- 
ture to congratulate you on the extended field on 
which you may now spread the love of your favorite 
science, I would much more deeply congratulate our 
cherished institution, and the young gentlemen 
under its care, for the invaluable addition which 
you will bring to the curriculum of their instruction. 
To you it is a matter of secondary consideration, but 
to our institution, and to them, it is a matter of the 
very highest importance. Most earnestly do I trust, 
my dear Doctor, that you may find it a source of 
enjoyment to you, and of still increasing usefulness 
and reputation. 

I am sure that it will advance the interests and 
the standing of our College, to have your name as- 
sociated with it in the department of your choice, 
and we shall therefore avail ourselves of 3^our kind 
permission to announce it. 

With sincerest respect and regard. 

Verv faithfully yours, 

M. K. 

The duties connected with the Chair of Natural 
History were congenial to the Pastor of St. John's, 
and involved very little labor on his part. 

He retained the Professorial Chair for three years, 
when pressing duties connected with his Ministerial 
ofiice called for his resignation. 

As he stood with his boys around him, the fire 
and glow of his youth was rekindled and communi- 
cated to his students. They sought his company in 
their vacations, planning with their parents to induce 
him to spend days with them in the country, or at 
the sea-shore. 

A Fish Story. 263 

They were his guides into the forests. Here a 
mole burrowing, a toad buried alive, or the gyra- 
tions of an insect — a wild flower — or even a blade of 
grass, furnished varied subjects for instruction and 

They showed him the nests with young birds, 
that the}^ had discovered, and he taught them to 
distinguish the bird by its note — for, to his prac- 
tised ear, the note of every Southf^rn bird was as 
the voice of a friend. When in Europe, he is said to 
have made a wager (figuratively) with an English 
scientist, that in a week he could become familiar 
wdth every bird he met with, and tell its name by 
its note — and he did it. 

He knew, too, the names of all the finny inhab- 
itants of the salt and fresh waters in the neighbor- 
hood of Charleston. 

He was a successful angler, though he would often 
say, that to wait hours for a bite, was too lazy a sport 
for him. Yet, when the fishermen at the seaside 
would draw in their net, he was seen watching for 
the haul in a state of expectancy and excitement, 
that would have delighted old Isaac Walton. 

His boys drew from him all his best fish stories, 
and took a lively interest in every incident of a deer 
hunt. Many of these have been preserved. 

A Fish Story. 

Dr. Bachman was on a visit to the country home 
of a friend living near Charleston ; his host was 
called away to the city, and he concluded to go fish- 

264 John Bachmaa. 

ing. The sky was over-clouded — a perfect day in 
the eyes of a fisherman. When he reached the 
stream and opened his basket, his line was there, 
but, by an annoying oversight, there was no hook 
attached to it. He returned to the house, thinking 
that he could easily find a hook. Alas ! the search 
was vain. Here was a dilemma. He asked for a knit- 
ting-needle, bent and formed the wire into a clumsy 
but strong hook. Returning to the fishing ground, 
he threw out his line, and the bait was swallowed 
by a large Sheep's-head. As he drew him in and 
examined him, he could scarcely believe his own 
eyes — in the moutli of the Sheep's-head was a hook — 
the large fish must have broken the line of the 
angler who had previously endeavored to capture 

With joy and care, he drew out the hook and 
substituted it for liis own clunis}^ manufacture. 
AYith this newly-found hook he caught a large num- 
ber of fish, and returned to the liouse to relate to 
the good house-wife his success, and to present the 
fruit of his morning's adventure. 

The late Dr. T. O. Summers gives the followijig: 

"The Doctor told me that he one day killed (/ 
(/lant — not a man, but a whale. It was in this wise : 
He had embarked off the Delaware in a vessel bound 
to Europe. While the crew were ashore, he saw the 
spouting of a whale within rifle shot. Having a 
rifle at hand, he shot at the monster, whose blood 
tinged the waters — that was all he saw. Shortly 

Parson Bochmaris ^^Aimr 265 

after, being in Paris, lie saw in a newspaper that a 
whale had been washed ashore near the mouth of the 
Delaware, and on dissecting him it was found that a 
shot had penetrated his lungs. No one could solve 
the mystery. The Doctor solved it." 

We find among the notes of his grandson, John 
Haskell another reminiscence: 

" On a certain deer hunt that took place on 
one of the plantations near Charleston (probably 
Dr. Desel's, Goose Creek), my grandfather was put 
at one of the best stands, for the hunters knew 
that they could rely upon him. He maintained 
his reputation that day— he killed two deer and 
two turkeys. Covering the deer with leaves to 
conceal them, he blew his horn, and when the 
party rode up pointed to the turkeys, and then, 
to their great surprise, uncovered the deer." 

The old negroes, who lived on the plantations 
around Charleston, and were then the young men 
who assisted in bringing home the deer, etc., still 
preserve wonderful stories of Parson Bachman's 
" sure aim,'' and delight to tell how many turkeys, 
deer, etc., they carried home as the result of the 



His Second Marriage. 

Health fails — sojourn at madisox springs — visit frox 
victor audubon —letter to edward harris — <iuai)ru- 
peds of north america — his part in the work. 

To Victor G. Audubon : 

Charleston, Dec. 18th, 1848. 

DEAR \^ICTOR: I am sure that you will be 
glad to see a few lines written by my own 
hand, at daylight. It is just to say tliat the old 
fellow is alive, and only half blind. For three 
months I have been sadly off. If I only wrote or read 
for half an hour I was punished all night with sand 
in my eyes, and such an itching that I waked every 
half hour. I tried to abide by the Doctor's pre- 
scriptions ; rested my eyes, and even used no notes 
in the pulpit or at college. 

I go out of toAvn, and leave cares behind me 
whenever I can — and am the better for it. I shall 
go to Columbia, Lexington, etc., to spend my vaca- 
tion-w-eek, and return to m}- duties on Saturday. 

Now^ about the letter-press. At last, I think, I 
see m}^ way clear ; Maria has promised to be my 
amanuensis, and, on the second day of January, she 
will hold the pen for me. There is only one other 
person that could do this, and that is yourself ; but 
I won't call on you unless the other plan foils. 

A Weddhif/ Gift 267 

We are looking out for John, and shall be most 
glad to see him. 

Send your bill for the work subscribed for by 
'' Charleston Library Society." 

Now I shall entrust you all with a secret. Your 
Aunt Maria has been weak enough to consent to 
take the old man, with all his infirmities of mind 
and eyes, for better and for worse, and thus lawfully 
become his nurse and scribe, on December 2Stli, so 
please demean yourself accordingly, and acknowl- 
edge with me that she is so amiable and good-tem- 
pered, that she will not scratcli out the poor remnant 
of my eyes left to me. 

With love to all and congratulations of the season, 

Affectionately yours, 

J. B. 

Fou>'D ON THE Fly-leaf of ax Old Book. 

To Mrs. Bachman : 

My Beloved Maria : The presentation of a 
Cookery book from a husband to his l>ride, does not, 
at first, appear to evidence much of that sensibility 
and romance, which such an occasion would seem 
to inspire. I, however, send you this little book, not 
to remind you either of your duty as a good house- 
keeper — for of that I liave already had satisfactory 
experience, or of my appetite for luxuries — for tliis 
I ought not to encourage ; but, as 1 once heard you 
remark that you would like to own this book, I send 
it as an evidence that I shall ever be disposed to 
devote myself to you, and to comply with your least 

JoHx Bachman. 

December 28th, 1848. 

268 John Bachman. 

Victor Audubon to Mrs. Bachman : 

New York, January 28th, 1849. 

My Dear Aunt Maria : Your letter was received 
day before yesterday, and, I assure you, that it was 
read with no ordinary satisfaction. May you en- 
joy every blessing. 

Now I feel assured of the completion of our hopes 
and wishes in regard to the letter-press of the 
" Quadrupeds." * * I hope that the task of 
completing the work will not prove too irksome to 
vou and to our friend, your husband. * "*' 

V. G. A. 

On the second day of January, according to 
promise. Dr. Bachman and his wife, were to be 
found in the study, surrounded by stuffed speci- 
mens, papers and books, employing every leisure 
moment in the preparation of the Second Volume 
of " The (Quadrupeds of North America." An 
author has said, " Time is fertile in deceptions, and 
never gives us the fourth as much leisure as he 
promises." It did not prove otherwise in tliis case. 

One rule the Pastor of St. John's had laid down 
for himself, viz : Pastoral duties — what he called 
" the imperative duties," always first ; scientific labors 
in the second place. Still, b}^ early rising and syste- 
matic labor, the work on the "Quadrupeds " steadily 
went forward. Mrs. Bachman, under the direction 
of her husband, carefully took the measurements of 
the specimens. Besides, her artist e^-e was invalua- 
ble to him in deciding the exact shades of color. 

When the Spring came, however, and the March 
winds began to blow, we find him languid and 

At Madison Springs. 200 

spiritless, scarcely equal to his pastoral duties, and 
continuous literary work was out of the question. 
Woe to the man that stands alone under these cir- 
cumstances ! But Dr. Bachman did not stand alone ; 
his faithful wife was at his side. With consummate 
tact she had the specimens removed, and carefully 
laid aside the papers. " You are only suffering from 
weakness of body," she said, '' You must take a vaca- 
tion, and as you grow stronger, your old love for the 
work will return." She quietly made the simple 
preparations necessary for the trip; at the same 
time his congregation urged upon him the necessity 
for the same, and took a lively interest in the efforts 
to secure a quiet retreat where he could recuperate 
his strength. Madison Springs, Georgia, proved a 
happy selection. The specimen books, etc., that had 
been laid aside, were brought out and packed in 
readiness for an early departure. 

Dr. Hazelius had written from Lexington, ''Come 
and see my fine vegetable garden. I want you to 
see the plants raised from the seeds you sent me. I 
am needing your advice about the Seminary, don't 
pass me by." We find in Mrs. Bachman's hand- 
writing, a few dottings by the way. 

Tuesday, June 12th, '49 : ''Dr. B. and myself left 
Charleston for the Madison Springs." 

Wednesday was spent pleasantly with Dr. Hazelius' 

On the 19th we reached Madison Springs. The 
location is fine, and climate delightful. We are the 
onlv boarders and are comfortably accommodated. '^ 

270 John Bachman. 

A large empty room which opened from their 
chamber was put at their disposal A few wooden 
tables and chairs, were brought in, and specimens, 
papers, etc., were soon arranged in readiness for work, 
" Avhen the old love for it came back." Perfect rest, 
aided by the healing waters, had an almost magical 

Rejoicingly he writes to Victor Audubon : 

Madison Springs, June 30th, '49. 

"I have very cheering news to give you. I have 
been here eleven days ; the day after my arrival the 
giddiness in my head and other horrid symptoms 
that have distressed me for months, began to leave 
me. I sleep well, drink the water, and take a 
shower-bath daily. Best of all, I am able to work 
without suffering from my eyes. 

I begun working four hours a day, now I can 
work for twelve. I shall lessen the hours, should I 
find my strength failing. This is my tenth work- 
ing-day. I have finished seventeen articles, and ar- 
ranged notes for another. I have used as many of 
your notes as I could. Maria copies carefully. She 
lops off to the right and the left with your notes and 
mine; she corrects, criticises, abuses, and praises us 
by turns. Your father's notes, copied from his jour- 
nal, are valuable — they contain real information ; 
some of the others are humbug and rigmarole ; l)ut 
you have done so well as to surprise us. 

To-day, I wrote the life and doings of the 
Opossum ; my article will occupy me for another 
day. Three days ago, I wrote the article on 
the Ermine; what ^o\\ sent me lacked informa- 
tion, and I possessed it; in going over its history, 
I found and described a new Ermine — a small 

A Delightful Retreat 271 

one with long ears ; and hairs becoming white in 

(A page or two of notes and descriptions follow); 
the letter closes thus : 

" I hope that if nothing untoward happens, the 
Second Volume will be finished in a month, and the 
Third Volume next Winter. 

I am in a cjuiet place for work, free from mos- 
quitos, and free from two-legged idlers — that are 
worse. Maria will finish this letter." 

Mrs. Bachman, to the Same . 

"I would have written to you, dear Victor, long 
ago, but I had nothing agreeable to communicate : 
as, at home, Dr.. Bachman's inability to apply him- 
self to the work seemed to increase every day. This 
journey was a happy thought, as the change of air, 
relief from his many laborious home duties, and, 
perhaps, the water, have quite restored him. He 
seems to have recovered all the energies of his mind^ 
and is steadily employed every day, without being 
much fatigued by it. 

When at home, he devotes much time to his large 
congregation, particularly to those who are ill or in 
distress; and there are many other duties that leave 
him but little time. 

We came here about eleven days ago, and have 
found these Springs a delightful retreat from the 
bustle of the city. What would render it a dull 
place to most people, has given it a charm to us, viz : 
the absence of company — it is yet too early for 
visitors to resort here. In this calm and rural spot, 
surrounded by lofty trees, while the robins and other 
songsters enliven us with their music, Dr. Bacliman 
has become a new man. Free from all the little 
cares that intruded upon his hours of study at home^ 

272 John Bacltman. 

lie goes to his work, not as a task, but as a pleasing 
occupation of hours that would otherwise hang- 
heavily on his hands. 

He is every day cheered by the progress he is 
making, and I am trying to assist him when and 
where I can. Do not mind what he says about mij 
criticisms, as I slioukl never presume to undertake 
to do all that he jestingly gives me credit for. At 
any rate, dear Victor, my heart is cheered by being 
able to cop3^ for the printer, etc., to give you the good 
tidings that, if nothing interferes with our present 
plans, your mind may be at ease about the Second 
A^olume. Some of the greatest difficulties connected 
with it have already been surmounted. 

We intend to remain here until we are driven oil' 
by the fashionable crowd. ^ly love to your mother 
and to all around you. 

Your affectionate aunt, M. B. 

Tlie fashionable crowd did not make their appear- 
ance, and many of the visitors who arrived later, 
became greatly interested in the ''Quadrupeds." All 
considerately refrained from intruding and inter- 
rupting him in the mornings. They were content 
to gather around him in the evenings — they asking 
and he answering questions connected with Natural 
History. He retired early, and rose at daybreak, 
with head cool and mind clear. 

We find from Mrs Bachman's note-book that, 
during his vacation, Dr. Bachman preached every 
Sunday but one, either at the Springs, or at a village 
church. When his route had been marked out, a 
deputation, several times, met him at the station to 
secure his services. It was affirmed by some who 

A Wedding. 273 

were present, that they had never heard him preach 
witli greater fervor or freedom. 

Fro>[ his Daughter Harriet (Mrs. W. E. 

ToTNESS, July 18, 1849. 

" I hope to be in Charleston, with the children, to 
meet you on your arrival. * * 

My baby, with her winsome ways, is very sweet. 
Maria, her colored nurse, is to be a bride to-night. 
I'he washroom has been thoroughly prepared — the 
walls whitened and dressed with evergreens. Writ- 
ten invitations have been sent out a fortnight since, 
and all the servants have a most knowing look. I 
shall leave this interesting subject, and tell you of 
the exploits of your grandson, John Bach man 
(Haskell). * * ^^^ ^- 

One Sunday afternoon he made his tirst appear- 
ance at Church. We took him to Grace Church, his 
half-sisters declaring that the stained glass would 
amuse him and keep him quiet. Alas ! as soon as 
the responses began, he joined in, and, ere long, the 
spirit of fun possessed him. As I turned to clieck 
him he rose in his seat, snatched up his father's hat, 
cocked it on one side of his head, and imitating his 
voice, called out : '' Ben, saddle my riiare." Poor fellow, 
he was punished by not being allowed to go to 
church yesterday, and he seemed very much 
ashamed of himself. 

You sa}^, father, that my boy may live to be a 
great man — God grant that he may be a good one! 
My first-born, how my heart would bleed to find 
him guilty of any low or mean action." * * "^^ 

H. E. H. 

274 John Bacliman. 

To Victor Audubon. 

Charleston, August 24th, 1849. 

AVe arrived at home, day before yesterday. The 
best news I can give you is that my health continues 
to improve ; the next best news, that the Second 
Vohime is ahnost finished. I have only to be sure 
of my Latin descriptions (I had left my Latin Dic- 
tionary at home.) 

Maria and Haskell have a little copying to do, 
and then the book will be readv for the press. 

J. B. 

The gold-fever was then at its height at the North. 
Mr. John Audubon was the leader of an expedition 
to California, in 1849. 

From Victor Audubon. 

My brother will leave us in a few days for Cali- 
fornia, he will be absent, perhaps for eighteen 

This journey is undertaken with the hope that he 
may be able to get gold. What may be the result, 
God only knows John will be accompanied by Col. 
H. L. Webb, as military leader ; the party consists of 
about eight}^ picked men. One of Dr. Mayer's sons 
wished to go with John, but unluckily, his applica- 
tion came after the party was made up, so they 
could not take him. 

I should like much to see you all, but now it will 
be impossible for me to go so far from home. 

My dear old father is apparently comfortable, and 
enjoys his little notions; but requires constant care 
and attendance ; the rest are well. Your grand- 
daughters are growing finely, and are well educated ; 
soon we shall call in a '' maitre de danse," to polish 

A Welcome Home. 275 

them up and improve their under staii ding (a pun 


I am just about to start for Washington, to get 

letters from the President for John and I will try 

and see the collection brought back by the exploring 

expedition, including the fiimous Black-tail Deer. I 

am in a great bustle, the ofhce is full of Californians. 
^ ^ ^■. ^ ^ ^ ^ 

V. G. A. 

From various unlooked-for causes, the expedition 
proved a financial failure. Mr. John Audubon, 
however, drew many lovely views of California, that 
were afterwards lithographed, and he gained valua- 
ble information of the country. 

To J. W. Audubon. 

July 13th, 1850. 

Dear John — Hail all hail ! You have come back 
alive and well, thank God ! Now take courage. I 
believe you have brought back no gold, but you 
have brought to us yourself. You have found wife 
and children safe and well, so be thankful. 

Don't fret, you have gained experience, and will 
have long yarns to spin. You have youth and 
health on your side, trust in God, and all will yet be 
well. You did your best; you exhibited braver}^ 
and humanity, and experience makes a man wiser 
and better. 

We are all well. Our little John Bachman is a 
very interesting chap ; he calls himself '' Dr. BacJi- 
man;''' he is wilful and full of fun; he amuses me 
and vexes me by turns ; yet, I confess that I do not 
feel quite satisfied if he is not sitting at table on his 
high chair at my side. 

Love and congratulations to all. 

276 John Bachman. 

To V. G. Audubon. 

Charleston, Sept. 1st. 

I am at home again, liave just returned from a 
trip to Graniteville. 

I am well and ready to begin work, (Third A'olume 
of (Quadrupeds.) 

I remember one day being on board of a ship 
just ready to sail. The sailors had been drinking^ 
and the captain was about ready to use the rojjes 
end. The lads half sobered at sight of " the cat-with- 
its-nine-tails." exclaimed, *' Captain, we are done 
cruising." I believe I can now^ say, "I am done 
eruising" I am ready, Victor, for work. " ''" '^ '•' 

I have a world of things to say, but not now, as 
the ship is readv and my man is waiting. 

J. B. 

The Large Edition of the Quadrupeds, was pub- 
lished in 1840 and 1850. It contained tlie tigures 
and descriptions of the Quadrupeds of the United 
States, of part of Mexico, the British and Russian 
Possessions, and the Arctic Eegions of North 

In 1852, a miniature copy was prepared and pub- 
lished with additions. His son-in-law, Victor Audu- 
bon, wrote that he was ready to come and relieve 
Mrs. Bachman of her labors as amanuensis, in con- 
nection with the additions to the ''Smaller Work." 

To Mr. Edward Harris, of Morristown, N. J. ^ 
Charleston, March loth, 1852. 
My Dear Sir : Rejoice Avith me, the book is fin- 
ished. I did not expect to have lived to complete 
it. But Victor Audubon came on, and I made him 

A Marmot Squirrel 277 

liold the pen, while I dictated with specimens and 
books before me, and we went on rapidly ; we worked 
hard, and now we are at the end of our labors. I 
have, at last, prevailed on them to give the Bats. 
At the end of the work, I intend to give a synopsis 
and scientific arrangement of all our American spe- 
cies, including the seals, whales, and porpoises. 
This will be included in the letter-press of the Third 

Here I will venture to consult you in regard to 
the publication of additional plates of species, not 
ligured in the Large Work. A very few small 
Arvicola and Shrews, we may not obtain, and they 
cannot be figured ; but nearly all are witliin our 
reach. Some of the subscribers have bound up their 
plates, and there cannot be a sufficient number to 
make even the half of another Volume. I propose, 
as all these figures will be contained in the Sinall 
Work, that they should be inserted in tlie letter-press 
of the Large Work, so that the subscribers, by merely 
paying for the cost of the small plates, would have 
the work complete — what think you of this ? 

VVJiat think you of Victor's obtaining one hun- 
dred and twenty-nine subscribers in about three 
days, and I think that he will double the number 
next week ; so, if the "Large Work" Avill not pay, 
the "Small" one. and this is large enough, is sure to 
do it. 

But I had almost forgotten the main object of 
writing to you. 

Do you remember a small animal, a Spermophile, 
tliat resembles "Says' S. lateralis," that you brouglit 
to me. I took it for that animal, although Says' 
description did not exactly suit it. Since then, I 
have received Says' species, and on comparing them, 
I find that yours is a new species which I have 
named Spcrmophilus Harrisii. Now, as you have 

278 John Bachnian. 

been flying to immortality on the wings of wood- 
peckers and other birds, you may be unwilling to 
submit to the slow process of riding thither on the 
back of a Marmot Squirrel. But you must endure 
it, as I was compelled to do, when a shabby fellow 
in the back country, who had never seen me, walked 
some miles to show me a dirty little urchin, with- 
out shoes and stockings, hat or clean face, whom he 
had named John Bachman. Now what do you know 
of the history of this little name-sake of yours ? 
AVhere was it procured, and did it live in communi- 
ties like the rest of its species ? I see it has cheek- 

Mrs. Bachman and Victor join me in kind re- 
membrances to you and to Mrs. Harris. 

In March, Victor Audubon, previous to his return 
to New York, visited Savannah and Augusta, Ga. 

In a sketch of Audubon's life, contained in a 
Northern journal, we read this sentence, in reference 
to " The Quadrupeds of North America" : " Dr. Bach- 
man, of Charleston, helped in the coinpllatlon of this 

We insert the following letter of introduction, 
which we find in Dr. Bachman's hand-writmg ; it 
tells us the part he took in the letter-press of '' The 
(Quadrupeds of North America." The inscription 
of the letter is wanting. It was written to a friend 
residing in Savannah, Ga. 

Charleston, March 2oth, 1852. 

My Dear Sir : My son-in-law, Victor G. Audubon, 
is on a rapid visit to the South, and has a week or 
two to spare, which he is desirous of devoting to the 

The American Quadrupeds. 279 

obtaining of subscribers to the " American Quadru- 
peds." The Work (Miniature) will be complete in 
about thirty numbers, furnished monthly at $1.00 
per number. 

The figures were made by the Audubons, and the 
descriptions and letter-press were prepared by my- 

I have no pecuniary interest in this work, as I 
have cheerfully given my own labors without any 
other reward than the hope of having contributed 
something toward the advancement of the cause of 
Natural History in our country. I am, however, 
anxious that the Audubons should, by a liberal sub- 
scription, receive some remuneration for the labors 
and heavy expenses incurred in getting up this 
work. Of the character of the work it does not be- 
come me to say much. I will only add that in my 
department is summed up the result of investiga- 
tions pursued througli a long life, and, I think, the 
figures have never been equalled in any publication 
either in Europe or America. 

May I bespeak from you a little aid to my 
esteemed son-in-law, Mr. Audubon, in assisting liim 
to procure subscribers. He is a stranger in your 
city ; his time is limited, and his stay among you 
will necessarily be short. 

By the aid of two friends here, he obtained two 
liundred and fifty subscribers in a few days, * * 

To Victor Audubon : 

April 3rd, 1852. 

The Bats send their best respects to you and say 
that they are nearly dissected, clean shirts on their 
backs and with a little extra brushing will be ready 
to see callers. We have had a strange visitor here. 
Two Seals made their appearance, one on the beach 

280 John Bach man. 

near the light-house and another at Beaufort. They 
were both taken. One I saw ahve, but the man 
Avho seized him, gave him an unlucky blow, of 
which he subsequently died. I described him to- 
day, and regret exceedingly that you were not here 
to figure him. It is admirably set up at the college. 
I really wish we had a decent figure of this rare and 
most extraordinar}^ animal. It has four legs, a tail 
thickly clothed with soft, glossy hair, and is as much 
a quadruped as the Otter. What folly it would 
have been not to have given the Sea/s — we might as 
well have omitted the Deer or the Bear. 

I give now a report of the family. Immediately 
after you left, Haskell was taken quite sick — a man 
is an impatient j^atient — grumbling and fretting. To- 
day he is down stairs, but looks as though he had 
been drawn through an auger hole. 

C. has run a needle into her leg — it happened 
a week ago, and the doctor cannot reach it. She 
limps very much, but bears it cheerfully. At noon 
my son W , leaves for his farm at Waulesa, Ga. 

All join me in love to you, and all wish you 
abundant success in procuring subscribers at 
Clarion. We are glad that you have done something 
in Savannah, and trust that Augusta and Columbia, 
will use you as well. 

April 9th. Will you not return to New York by 
the way of Charleston and sail from here, take a 
manuscript volume in your pocket, and four liun- 
dred good and true names on A^our list. * '^ * 

The people have found out that I am no longer 
writing a Bool:, and they pounce on me morning, 
noon and night. I have arranged all the bats but 
one, and am writing descriptions of their habits, 
etc. I have nearly finished, in fact. * * * 

They bring 2ne word that I have another grand- 
child. It is not christened yet (H. E. H.), but is a 

The Study and Garden. 281 

little queen ; she has sent me no message ; but I pre- 
sume I will soon have her love. * * * 

My p^arden was finished this evening — it is nearly 
planted, and I have raised the whole about two feet. 

Aunt Maria wishes me to stop, as she has much to 
say to you, and may criss-cross this letter. She is 
rather shackling. * * * 

From Mrs. Bachman. 

Really, dear Victor, I do not intend to give you 
such an infliction as a long, " criss cross'^ letter, but 
only to add a few friendly w^ords of chit chat, to let 
3^ou know^ that, although I am leather shacliing, I am 
still able to hold a pen and to make a pudding. I 
sincerely wish that you w^ere here to share the latter 
with us. * =^ * 

Dr. B. feels the loss of his companion, both in the 
study and in the garden, and will be very glad to 
show you the progress he has made in both depart- 
ments since you left here. 

The weather has been quite cool for some days, 
but is warmer now\ The gardens are lovel}^ Mr. 
Chisolm's is beautiful. Hoping very soon to see you, 
I am ever your affectionate friend and aunt, 

M. Bachmax. 

The year previous, January 2nd, 1851, his daugh- 
ter Lynch had been united in marriage to Robert 
T. Chisolm, Esq. 

His son-in-law's taste for flowers, and well culti- 
vated garden, were a source of great pleasure to Dr. 

282 John BacJiman. 

To A^iCTOE Audubon: 

July, 1852. 

Your box arrived safely, and your two proofs 
came together I return the latter ; they were so 
carefully printed that there was not a word to cor- 

P has gone to the Virginia Springs. I have 

reason to believe that he is good pay, and that you 
may confidently depend on him. He makes a good 
deal of money by his law practice, but his wife is 
alwa^^s pulling out the plug from the bung-hole. 

I have not troubled my head much about politics ; 
but I cannot swallow Scott. I go with South Caro- 
lina for Pierce ; Taylor humbugged us so much that 
I mean to trust no more Seward AVhigs. 

My daughters, Harriet and Lynch, brought their 
babies to church yesterday, and they were baptized. 
All join me in love to your mother and to John, 
and to m}^ little saddle-bridle racers. "^ "^ "^ J. B. 



Letters and Journeys. 

Letter on education of daughters — visit to eufaula — a 
letter of invitation to the north — the invitation 


To Mrs. H., with regard to the education of 


Charleston, January, 1852. 

Dear Mrs. H. — The expression of your grateful 
feelings in your note of yesterday, for a very slight 
favor ; but, more especially, the confidence you have 
reposed in me in asking, and kindly receiving my 
counsel, induce me to hope that this hastily written 
letter, may neither be unacceptable, nor altogether 
unprofitable to you, during your absence from your 
native State. (South Carolina.) 

I feel as if I were familiarly conversing Avith a 
daughter, who, in all confidence is looking up to me 
for advice. I shall speak, without constraint, with 
you on a variety of topics — some of far less impor- 
tance than others. 

If you have not an escort to the North, get some 
one who is acquainted with the Captain, to intro- 
duce you, and secure for you the proper attention ; 
if my services are necessary, you may command 
them. From Philadelphia, I think, you can travel 
the whole way by rail, and reach Bethlehem the same 

284 John Badiman. 

day. Go to tlie liotel, whicli is I hear, comfortable, 
and send my letter, at once, to the Rev. Mr. Wolle. 

For some montlis you may feel alone in Bethle- 
hem, and, if I have not misinterpreted your feelings, 
you would welcome solitude and indulge in the 
luxury of grief. This is the course against which 
I would strive to guard you. Your life, your health, 
and the powers of your mind, are all essential for the 
mental training and happiness of your children. 

In the days of youth and romance, I committed to 
memor}^ in the original nearly the whole of " Zlm- 
rtiermann on Solitude,^' and fancied that to fly from 
the world, and to indulge in melancholy thouglits, 
would best promote virtue, and fit for heaven. 

In more mature life, and as age was advancing, 
my theory was put to the test. One blow of alfiic- 
tion after another fell on my head, and my daughters, 
with their mother — happy, because they were good. 
Avere removed from me. I then found that faith and 
trust in God, and the hoi)e of a blessed resurrection, 
together with constant occupation and the faithful 
performance of duty, presented far higher claims to 
the Christian, and were far better calculated to 
assuage grief, than exclusion from the world and 
retirement from its duties. 

While I am writing, the cold wind is driving- 
snow flakes against my window, and the earth is 
already lightly covered with a white mantle ; the 
sight recalls to my mind the rigorous Winters of tlie 
North, and almost disposes me to regret that you do 
not postpone your visit until Spring. At any rate, 
it suggests the necessity for warm clothing, heavy 
flannels and cloaks to suit your Southern constitu- 
tion — but, in time, perhaps, you may even sound the 
praises of the fur-muff and tippet. 

Soon, I hope, you will feel less lonely and more 

The Education of DaugJ iters. 285 

You will find employment in attending to your 
und your daughters apparel ; in studying economy, 
which is a virtue; in watching the improvement of 
your daughters in knowledge and virtue; in keep- 
ing up a correspondence with those who arc in- 
terested in your welfare, and in reading interesting 
works. Associate with a few choice, intelligent and 
pioQS friends, above all, do not neglect self-examina- 
tion, and intercourse with your Heavenh^ Father. 

Should time still hang heavy on your hands, you 
have opportunities of acquiring a knowledge of the 
French and German language, (the latter, which is 
spoken in its purity at Bethlehem, is one of the 
richest languages in the world, in history, poetry, 
science and philosophy.) The acquisition of these 
and other languages, beguiled many a leisure hour 
of my life, and they Avere brought into requisition 
while travelling during eight months, w^ithout an 
interpreter, through nearly all the Kingdoms of 

Thus, b}^ constant occupation, I am sure you will 
so beguile the sorrows of a bruised heart, as to be 
able to discharge your duties, to look on the glorious 
heavens and the smiling earth, and feel that the 
Lord has not hid the light of His countenance from 
you. Nay, you may almost realize the dream of 
the poet's Elysium, (I quote from memory): 

"Content, retirement, friendship, books, ease and 

alternate labor ; 
Progressive virtue, and approving heaven." 

In the moral and mental training of j^our daugh- 
ters, I would advise that you become their com- 
panion and confidant. Do not keep them at a dis- 
tance — let them feel that their mother is their best 
earthly friend. Make due allowance lor their 
youth — the happy years. Try to smile with them 

286 John BacJiman. 

when they are happy, and restraii] them only in 
thoughts and actions that would lead to sin. Be a 
watchful, but not too anxious a mother. Do your 
duty, and then cheerfully and contentedly draw- 
largely on the promises of your Heavenly Father, 
who will ever be the protector and guide of the 
widow and the fatherless. 

In the education of your daughters, I do not ob- 
ject to the ornamental parts, but let the essentials of 
a solid English education, be particularly attended 
to : Reading, writing, arithmetic, grammar, and 
geography, with the use of maps and globes, history, 
book-keeping, etc. 

Give them such a thorough education that in any 
reverse of circumstances, they may pursue honora- 
ble and useful employments ; or, on the other hand, 
may discharge their duties as wives, mothers, and 
happy members of society. 

Industry, intelligence, refinement, and pure re- 
ligion, form, in my estimation, the characteristics of 
a true lady. I confess, that I have little patience 
with our fashionable, lazy young lady, who spends 
her nights at balls, and her days in lolling on the 
sofa with a novel, leaving her poor mother to toil, 
economize — and to speculate for her. Doll-babies 
are pretty play-things for children, but intelligent 
men will not resort to them — even as a pastime. 

It would almost appear at first sight, as if I were 
venturing on forbidden ground, were I to advise you 
more particularly in regard to the practice of the 
duties of religion — on which all your earthly peace, 
and all your hopes for the future depend. I have 
always prayed to be preserved against bigotry and I 
have escaped I think, the charge of a desire to make 
proselytes. The true Christian, I hail as brother or 
sister, b}^ what ever name he may be called. * * * 
You and I, are not very likely to dispute about forms 

A Memento. 287 

of religion. I have said this much, that I may have 
your confidence. Be assured, that while you pre- 
serve the essentials of religion, your faith in God, 
your faith in the divinity and atonement of Christ, 
and the necessity of a new heart and life, I shall rejoice 
to know that you are a child of God, and an heir of 
heaven; and to feel that when we are gathered to our 
rest, we shall meet in a world where human error 
and imperfection shall be obliterated in the clear 
light of truth and immortality. 

I did not think wdien I sat down to write you a 
few lines, that I should have drawn out this letter 
to such a length. 

If I have been tedious, you must ascribe it to an old 
man's infirmities. You have solicited my prayers, 
you have them, and if the supplications of a poor, 
imperfect mortal, can avail, you and your children 
will be very good and very happy. 

After a few months, you can judge if the school 
at Bethlehem presents those literary, moral, and 
religious advantages that you require ; should it not 
prove satisfactory, it will not be difficult to select 
another; but, in this case, inform me, as I have 
friends at the North, and a general acc[uaintance 
with Northern Institutions. 

When you arrive at Bethlehem, and have rested 
from your journey, I shall be much gratified to hear 
from you. 

Believe me, very sincerely your friend, 

A memento of this friendship is still preserved in 
Dr. Bachman's family. 

Hair work was exquisitely wrought at Bethle- 
hem, and Mrs. H., learned the art there. Obtaining, 
without Dr. Bachman's knowledge, a lock of the 

288 John Badnnan. 

hair of every member of his famih^, she wove it into 
a wreath of flowers and leaves. The main-stem was 
formed of our mother's hair, and the ''Heart's Ease" 
of our father's: the hair of the little babies of the 
family — ^,just long enough for pistils and stamens to 
the flowers, completed the family wreath. 

The following sprightly letter was written on the 
occasion of a flying visit to Alabama to perform the 
marriage rite for his wife's nephew, M. D. S., Esqr., 
of Charleston : 

To Mrs. Bachman : 

EuFAULA, Ala., December, 1851. 

In former years I had doubts if I should ever 
tread on the soil of Alabama ; now, although I am 
only in one corner of it, I can say, " I am in Ala- 
bama." I do not, however, feel as if I had entered 
into a new region. The same sun is shining : the 
same long-leaved pines are growing, and the same 
sandy region presents itself as in Carolina (about 
the region of Columbia). 

My last letter to you was from Macon, Georgia. 
Dr. S. came to take me out of the city to baptize two 
of his children. I visited some Indian mounds, and 
made many pleasant acquaintances. 

In the evening G. and his wife arrived ; later one 
party after another came in on different roads, dis- 
turbing our slumbers. We took breakfast before 
daylight, and, in a few hours, reached the terminus 
of the Railroad, Oglethorpe. 

We soon ascertained tliat there was but one coach 
(and tliat would hold comfortably only four persons), 
and there were about a dozen passengers. We there- 
fore commissioned the groom elect to be ready for a 

A Coach Bide to Eafaida, 289 

spring just as the cars stopped — to secure the seats. 
He accomplished the feat in fine style. Two strap- 
ping clerks went on the top — grumbling. We had 
eighty three miles to go with miserable horses. 
Presently it began to rain, and then to pour ; the 
night was pitch dark ; the streams swollen, and the 
hills high and slippery ; we traveled scarcely more 
than three miles an hour, as, at every steep hill, we 
had to get out. To go over shoe tops was a small 
affair ; I plunged in up to my knees. To crown all, 
Mrs. G.'s sympathies compelled her to invite the 
strangers on the to}) into the coach. Mr. G. took 
her on his lap, and I had the two men on either 
side of me, soaked with rain, smashing me into a 
cocked hat. So we crawled along for twenty-two 
hours. A bridge had been washed away. I and the 
other gentlemen crossed on the sleepers, while Mrs. 
O. kept possession of the coach — delighted at the idea 
of an adventure. At length we reached Eufeula in 
safety ; express riders had announced our coming. 
Mr. D., a wealthy planter, with a pretty young wife, 
gives, to-day, a dinner party and a great deer hunt, 
on my account, they tell me. They have learned 
here that I am a good shot, if I am good for nothing 
else. I have, however, declined to go, as 1 am very 
hoarse from exposure, and cannot speak above a 
whisper. I have had to disappoint these kind peo- 
ple, who had made up their minds that I was to 
preach for them. Instead I became a listener, and 
heard three pretty good sermons during the da}^ — 
one from a Baptist, the second from an Episcopalian, 
and the third from a Methodist. I should have 
omitted the night service, for I increased my cold — 
the lady doctors are dosing me with catnip tea, and 
nursing me up. I am better, and hope to be suffi- 
ciently well to tie a knot to-morrow evening, that 
neither the devil nor his anoels can break. 

290 John Bachman. 

Now let me draw you a picture of your intended 
niece, though you know I am not good at sketching 
a lady, and always have to borrow your hand, even 
when I attempt to draw a monkey for Julia, (his 
little granddaughter). 

Now I must not romance, but look at the creature 
as God made her. Stand up C. and show your good 
and bad points — always putting the best foot foremost. 
Her eyes are fine ; she is rather under height and 
inclined to be a little stout. She dresses simply ; is 
without pretension and makes no blue-stocking dis- 
play ; yet she has upset the bachelor, and produced 
a change in the inner and outer man. In her 
language and manner she is confiding ; she seems 
domestic, industrious and remarkably amiable. I 
am sure that you will like her, as I do. The groom 
is at a miserable, uncomfortable public house — the 
best and the worst in the place. I tell him that he 
is an apprentice now ; but will soon have the honors 
and comforts of a master workman. 

The bride's brother is a young lawyer, admirabl}^ 
suited to a new country opening a wide field for en- 
terprise and adventure. He is a man of decided 
popular talent; a politician, stump orator, an editor 
with line business capacities, and withal a noble, 
generous, whole souled fellow. I like tliis young 
n:an very much. 

There are such preparations for the wedding, as 
never before awaked the echoes of Eufaula. Fruits 
from Charleston — people coming fifty miles. The 
little world of Alabama is turned topsy turvey and 
the venison, the turkeys and the ducks, are to be 
offered up by hecatombs, on the altar of Hymen. I 
look at it all as a philosopher, enjoy it, and yet I 
shall be glad to be back in my quiet home. 

I will leave here on Wednesday at two P. M., and 
travel all night in the coach, and if no accident 

Return Home. 291 

happens, shall reach Savannah, Thursday night, 
take the steamer, and be at home Frida}^ at 
eleven A. M. There may be a disappointment — the 
coach sometimes breaks down, or a horse dies on the 
road, and then there is a stand-still for a day. Send 
for me on Friday. M}^ love to all. 

No disappointment occurred and Saturday found 
the Pastor in his study busily preparing for 

From Mrs. J. J. Audubon: 

Minnie's Land, March 31st, 1852. 

" In ni}' last letter I reminded you that as sons 
and daughters were away from your home and 
your family consisted of only four, you might all 
come and spend a few months in this latitude ; it 
would be of service to you all. Victor will write to 
repeat my request. The visit would be to me a 
great pleasure, in which, I am sure, all at our home 
would participate. 

You will find some changes in the outward, as 
well as inward circumstances around us. (Audubon 
is dead). 

I have been planting various favorite shrubs and 
creepers over the resting place of your old friend ; 
his cell is as quiet and solemn a resting place as the 
mind can conceive — and all, but the remembrance 
of his goodness, is gone forever. 

The cliildren send their love to grandfather and 
to all around you, in which I most heartily unite. 

Hoping that you will accede to our wishes. 
I remain, yours affectionately, 

Lucy Audubon. 

AVe learn from the following letter, that the invi- 
tation was accepted. 

292 Jo1m Bachman. 

Dr. and Mrs. Bachman spent a few days with their 
friends at "Minnie's Land," N. Y., and then made a 
rapid tour of the ''Great Western Lakes." 

From Mrs. Bachman to the Daughters at home : 
Detroit, Michigan, June 18th, 1852. 

We are here nearly, or quite fifteen hundred miles 
from our home, which we only left three weeks ago. 
Ten days of that time we spent with the Audubons. 
at "Minnie's Land." We left our friends well on 
Monday last, at 7 A. M. * * * 

The cars on the Great Erie Railroad were com- 
fortable, but crowded. We travelled on that day 
two hundred and eighty-three miles without stop- 
ping tor dinner ; the route was interesting, and when 
we approached the last tributary waters of the Dela- 
ware River, the scenery was romantic in the extreme. 

On we went at rapid speed, stopping only fifteen 
minutes for refreshment. I did not desire anything; 
but at 4 P. ISL, feeling exhausted, I fancied a cup of 
tea. AVhen the announcement was made "five 
minutes for refreshments," your father in haste pro- 
cured the tea. It was good ; but so hot, that I 
realized the old adage " Many a slip Hivixt the cup 
and the Up.'' But even the small quantity I took 
refreshed me, and the little incident afforded us 
amusement. ^ ^ ^ 

We did not intend to stop at Dunkirk ; but at 
Elmira discovered the loss of one of our trunks. 
We therefore concluded to wait for it at Dunkirk ; 
the agent telegraphed to the different stations to 
have it sent up by an express train. 

I cannot omit a pleasing incident, an act of hos- 
pitality from a Northern man, on whom we had not 
the slightest claim. Mr. Nottingham, (at the head 
of the R. R. department here) when your father 

Northern Hospitality. 293 

asked him to recommend him to a public house, said 
"There is none I can recommend. If you do not 
object to a private house, I think that I can make 
you comfortable." He took us to his own house, 
where we were delightfully accommodated. We re- 
mained with these excellent people until the next 
day, (during the night our trunk arrived.) Of 
course we expected to pay for private board : but 
they would not listen to it. Mrs. N. insisting that 
our visit had afforded them great pleasure — surely 
we could not have been more hospitablv entertained 
at the South. * ^^ * 

We took the Steamer at Dunkirk for Detroit ; the 
quiet day and night on the lake has refreshed us. 
Your father is full of life and spirits. He has a 
great desire to see a prairie and some of the natural 
productions of these Western lakes — I do like to see 
him enjoy himself ! He fears that he will not have 
time to go farther West, as this is already the 18th 
of June, and we must be in New York by the end 
of the month, and he is obliged, too, to stop a day or 
two in Philadelphia. * * 

We think of you constantly, and wish that you 
were with us ; but as it could not be, it is cheering 
to hear from you that you are comfortable and 
happy at home. Travelling is very pleasant ; but I 
think that we shall have even more gratification in 
telling you of all that we have found interesting, 
than in the actual enjoyment at the time. 

Your father is as despairingly in search of a beau- 
tiful woman, as Japheth was of his father. * '•' 

With love. ' M. B. 

This search for a beautiful woman, repeatedly 
alluded to in Dr. Bachman's letters, suggests the 
thought, that unconsciously the father's eye and 

294 John Bachman. 

heart were seeking a face that possessed the 
heautu of his daughter Julia. 

When they reached the picturesque lake city, 
Cleveland, Ohio, Dr. Bachman found, to his surprise, 
Dr. Jared P. Kirtland awaiting his arrival. Dr. 
Kirtland, the eminent Professor, Physician, and man 
of varied acquirements, was well known hy reputa- 
tion to Dr. Bachman : l)ut probahly tliey had not 
met before. We remember Dr. Bach man's glowing- 
description of the extensive orchards, with their fruit- 
laden trees : the apiary with its hundreds of bee- 
hives, its busy workers and wealth of lioney ; the 
gay parterre and fragrant flowers — the senses were 
all captivated. The days glided away too swiftly 
in the society of their genial host, his delightful 
family, and a cliosen circle of friends. 

Years afterwards, when the tide of bloody war 
was surging over our land, Dr. Kirtland did not 
Jbrget his Charleston friend. He wrote to the sur- 
geons of the Northern Army who had been his stu- 
dents, requesting that, if in the chances of war, they 
sliould meet with Dr. Bachman in need, they would 
succor him for liis sake. At the close of the War, 
Dr. Kirtland journeyed many miles out of his wa}' 
to visit his friend in Charleston. They were faithful 
correspondents for many years (we regret that the 
letters liave not been preserved). Dr. Kirtland out- 
lived his friend, but not his friendship for him. This 
he graciously passed over to his familv, and corres- 
ponded with one of the daughters until the close of 
liis honorable life. 

Literary AV^ o r k . 

Open-air peeparation for liteeary work — dictation to 
amanuensis — pebsonal recollections of dr. summers^ 
and of dr. john c. morris — literaey club — adven- 
tures of a club-night— inity of the nu:n[an race. 

WHEN Dr. Bachman arrived in Charleston, in 
1815, in very delicate health, by the direction 
of his physician, he spent much of his time on the 
United States Revenue Cutters then stationed off 
Charleston harbor. The invigorating salt air benefited 
him greatly ; but unwilling to give up so much tmie 
to what seemed to him merely recreation, he formed 
the habit of taking with him his little blank book 
and noting down analogies, etc., suggested, often, by 
the natural objects that presented themselves. Thus 
he accomplished, in the open air, much of the pre- 
paratory work for his sermons and scientific publi- 
cations. His hand was so steady that he could use his 
razor in shaving, or write on ship-board witli almost 
as much comfort as when on land. 

Rev. Dr. Summers, in his Personal Recollections 
of Dr. Bachman, writes : 

"In preparing for tlie pulpit, the Doctor told me 
that he usually paced the floor for about two liours 

296 John Bachman. 

and a half dictating to his wife, who wrote his ser- 
mons for him : he became so accustomed to her 
writing, that lie could read it better than his own." 

AVhen his faithful amanuensis lost the use of her 
right hand from a fall, a daughter's hand was used. 

After dictating a sermon, he appeared perfectly 
fresh, and would sometimes dictate a second and 
shorter one for the afternoon. His habit was to 
select his text on Monday, to make his notes during 
the week, and to write out his sermon or sermons on 
Saturday. Sometimes the afternoon sermon was 

He dictated rapidly, seldom changing a w^ord ; but 
on Sunday morning, he would rise at day-break and 
go over his sermons, sometimes curtailing or adding 
to the same. 

His delivery was clear and impressive, and his 
mind filled to overflowing with his subject — the 
amanuensis was often surprised at the happy illus- 
trations interspersed, which were not contained in 
the written sermon. 

The habit of dictating we trace from 1827, when 
the nerves of his eyes were affected by the fever 
contracted on the ^¥cMern Lakes — wdiich so nearly 
proved fatal to his life. Dictating had its advan- 
tages to him. It not only saved him from exhausting 
mechanical labor, and from bending over his desk, 
but from something, with his temperament, even 
worse — from working alone. The wholesome in- 
terest created in the mind of his first amanuensis, 
spread itself to all the members of the family. Even 

John G. Morris, D. D. 297 

the younger became ambitious to copy well enough 
to assist their father in the mechanical part of his 

In 1850, tlie General Synod of the United States 
met in Charleston, S. C. Dr. Bachman, wrote to a 
relative, May 10th. : '' Our General Synod held its 
sessions in St. John's. Ten of its members staid at 
my house — and my hands were full." 

John G. Morris, D. D./^ of Baltimore, tells us: 

"It was the tirst time we had met South, and it 
was a happy meeting." Alluding to Dr. Bach man's 
earlier connection with that Synod, he continues : 

Rev. John Bachman of Charleston had been for 
some years a leading man in the Southern Church, 
before he became personally known to the same class 
of men in the Central Church. His first appearance 
among them, was as a member of the General Synod 
in New York, in 1833, Avhen he endeared himself to 
them all by his courteous manners, his high social 
(qualities, his varied learning and his churchly activ- 
ity. He was gay without frivolity, learned without 
pedantry, and pious without asceticism. He had 
already at that time, acquired a great reputation as 
a naturalists ; but he never alluded to science with- 
out being asked a question. 

On this occasion, at York, a number of us accom- 
panied him on a botanical excursion up the Coder us 
Urceky when we were compelled, not only to admire 
his familiarity with the Flora of the region, and his 
facility in discovering the names of the few plants 
unknown to him, but also to admire, and, at the 
same time to deplore, his extreme agility ; for he out- 

*Fifty years in the lAitheran Ministry. 

*208 .John Bachman. 

walked some much younger men than himself, and 
left tlie older lagging far behind. 

The same body convened in his Church in 1850. 
Among many other acts of kindness shown, Dr. 
Bachman presented every clerical member of the 
Synod with a copy of his celebrated book, " On the 
Unity of the Human Race." 

Dr. Bachman was probably the founder of The 
Literary Club of Charledon, 

He was elected its first President and long retained 
the office. Literary and scientific attainments were 
necessary for membership ; but it was the privilege 
of each member to invite a guest. These social gath- 
erings were botli instructive and enjoyable. The 
evening closed with simple refreshments. A hot 
8upper would have infringed upon the rules of the 
Society, whose motto was "High thmking and plain 

Healthful and vigorous, containing within itself 
the germs of intellectual life and growth, the So- 
ciety grew to noble proportions, with the promise of 
increasing strength and usefulness. Charlestonians 
felt a just and generous pride in the attainments of 
its members. Literary men and scientists who 
visited Charleston, Agassiz and a host of others, were 
its honored guests. 

On one occasion the subject suggested for con- 
sideration was " Luther, tlie Reformer, ^^ and Dr. Bacli- 
man was requested to prepare the Essay. Later 
(1853) his Protestant fellow-citizens called upon him 
for a more public defence of the Great Reformer. 

An Agricultural Survey. 299 

December, 1833, the subject selected was : " An 
Inquiry into the Nature and Benefits of an Agricultural 
Survey of the State of South Carolina^ 

" Tlie Legislature of South Carolina had made 
an appropriation for an Agricultural Survey of the 
State, and the question naturally suggested itself, 
' What benefits were likely to result from the libe- 
rality of South Carolina in fostering her agricultural 
interests ? ' The question was ably handled by the 
President of the Club, and the Essay was requested 
for publication." 

The preface to the published pamphlet runs thus : 

The writer of this Essay submits a few words of 
explanation in regard to the circumstances that in- 
duced him to prepare, and finally send it to the 
press. He has the honor of belonging to a Literary 
Club, composed of a limited number of gentlemen 
from the different learned professions, who meet 
weekly at each other's houses in rotation, for the 
purpose of interchanging sentiments, and promoting 
sociality. A subject for discussion is selected at one 
meeting, which forms the topic of conversation on 
the next. The question for the evening of the 28th 
December, 1833, was : " What benefits may be de- 
rived from an Agricultural Survey of the State." 
The leisure of a rainy day had enabled him to col- 
lect his thoughts on the subject, and in part commit 
them to paper. The Essay was therefore prepared 
and read without the remotest idea of publication. 
At a subsequent meeting the Club, under an im- 
pression that it might aftbrd some information on a 
subject which had so recently been agitated at Co- 
lumbia, requested its publication, and that a copy 
be sent to the Governor, and to each member of the 

300 John Bachman. 

two Houses of the Legislature. He lias 3'iel(ied his 
assent in deference to the wishes of his literary asso- 
ciates, and especially to the solicitations and libe- 
rality of his friends, the Hon. I). E. Huger, and the 
Hon. Mitchell King. 

The })aniphlet was published January, 1834. 

The papers read before tlie Society were often in 
great demand, Sometimes a guest from Boston, 
New York, Philadelphia or some other literary 
centre, would request the loan of the Essay to read 
before some scientific association of which, perhaps, 
they were both members, and afterwards it was 
published in one of the Northern journals. 

Precisely at 10.30 P. M., according to rule, the de- 
bate was closed, and the company were invited to 
})artake of an abundant, but inexpensive spread — 
prepared at home. Nothing stronger than coffee 
and lemonade was allowed. It is affirmed, however, 
that, on these occasions, the ladies never ftiiled to 
receive a Avelcome tribute to their culinary skill, 
proving that the subjects discussed at the supper- 
table, were not entirely despised by these profound 
ph ilosophers. 

On one occasion in 1853 Dr Bachman invited as 
his guest Mr. Wm. Gregg, the successful founder of 
the manufacturing village at Graniteville, S. C. 
The member at whose house the Club was to 
meet, lived a mile away. Mr. G. wrote to his 
friend : " Don't trouble yourself to order your buggy, 
I will take mine and call for you.'' At the ap- 
pointed hour — off they drove. Midnight came, 

A Clnb-Xight. 30i 

then one P. M., and still no husband and father 
appeared in either of the homes. At length two 
benighted, foot -sore, sad faced men stood before 
Dr. Bach man's street-door. This is the sorrowful 
tale they related : 

" When we came out in good time from the club; 
the horse and buggy, which we had expected to find 
safeh' tied before the door, had disappeared, and we 
have been vainly searching for them all over the 
city." Early the following morning a note was re- 
ceived from Mr. G . The horse and buggy had 

been found near the guard-house, without a driver, 
and the unknown property, for safety, had been 
lodged at the guard-house for the night. 

The next evening, on the supper-tables, in botli 
homes, a large envelope occupied a conspicuous 
place by the master's plate. It bore this inscription : 

" TJie Adventures and Sad Comeqnences of a Cluh- 

The poem detailed in glowing words, the fears, 
anxieties and sorrows of two once Avell-regulated 
families, the heads of which, unhappily, had become 
Cluh-iiien. This effusion caused great mirth. Twenty- 
four hours later, envelopes, similar to the first, were 
received by the wives. They contained the rejoinder 
to the poem, written in blank-verse. Startling and 
amusing revelations were made therein with regard 
to the wives and children of the two friends. It was 
without signature, but all knew well who the author 
was. The issue of these unfounded accusations 
was a visit, that evening, from the neighbor and 

302 John BacJiman. 

liis good \vi%. No redress was obtained by the 
plaintiffs ; but good-natured repartee and merry 
laugliter promoted dreamless slumber,^ which re- 
newed the energies of body and mind for tlie 
duties and cares of the morrow. 

The war between the States gave the death-blow 
to this genial Literary Club. It died in the very 
prime of its life and usefulness, be<|ueathing as an 
inheritance an impress of culture upon younger 

In 1850, Dr. Bach man published his book on 
" The Unity of the Human Race:' 
In the prefoce, he says : 

The Literary Club of Charleston, aware that the 
early studies of the author of this Essay had been 
directed to Natural History, and that in the pursuit 
of his profession as a clergyman, he had felt himself 
constrained by a sense of duty to investigate those 
branches of science that appear to militate against 
the truths of Christianity, had selected during his 
absence from the city, in September last, "The Unity 
of the Human Race " as a subject to be discussed at 
the meeting, which would next in turn take place 
at his house. He, accordingly, hastily prepared 
some notes which he read before the club. 

The subject being full of interest, was discussed 
at several successive meetings, two or three of which 
were occupied in an examination of the question on 
purely scientific grounds. The notes made during 
these hours of leisure which could be stolen from 
multiplied avocations and cares, had, insensibly, 
accumulated on his hands, ki the close of the dis- 
cussion, those members of the club who coincided 

Unity of the Human Race. 303 

with liim ill sentiment, requested their pubHcation ,- 
and several advocates of a phirality in the races, ex- 
pressed a desire that the ])ubHc should have an op- 
portunity of becoming acquainted with the observa- 
tions and views of an opponent, from whom thev 
honestly differed. -^ ^- ^ 

In discussing a subject, the most difficult in the 
range of the sciences, he has often felt himself 
obliged to differ from the views of his co-laborers, 
members of scientific associations with whicli he is 
connected — his correspondents and personal friends. 
He need not add that he has been studious, that no 
difference of views should be expressed in personal 
or offensive language. Men of science will fully 
understand this, and he only refers to it here, as an 
explanation to the public, to show them that a dif- 
ference of opinion, can have no influence in weak- 
ening the bonds of mutual respect and attachment. 

In his attempts to defend the long established 
doctrine of the Unity of the Human Race, he has 
neither sought for fame, nor courted controversy : 
to the former he believes that he is now indifferent, 
and the latter is adverse to his feelings, his profes- 
sion, and the admonitions of declining life. If, in 
this publication, he shall inadvertently give offence, 
he will regret it ; if errors have escaped him, he is 
ready to correct them ; and, if he has been enabled 
to acid any facts to the stock of human knowledge, 
or any argument in defence of truth, he will feel 
that his labors have been amply rewarded. 

AVe (juote from a review of this work in TJie N^w 
Eiiglandcr, Boston, Mass., November, 1850. 

Dr. Bachman has long been known as one of our 
most enthusiastic Naturalists. Various published 
papers of his own, and the very frequent references 

304 John Bachman. 

which Aadubon has made to his name, attest both 
the variety and accuracy of his information in several 
departments of Natural History. More recently the 
preparation of the beautiful work on "The Quadru- 
peds of North America," has established his reputa- 
tion as an authority upon all subjects relating to the 
Zoology of this continent. 

Dr. Bachman's present work shows throughout 
that he has been long engaged in careful and phil- 
osophical investigation of topics in various depart- 
ments of Natural History, which bear upon the 
question of the nature of a species. >k * ^^ 
Aiming to settle the question of the unity of man- 
kind upon purely scientific grounds, Dr. Bachman 
discusses it in almost every aspect ; and varied as 
these aspects are, there is scarcely one of them on 
which he does not cast some new light. The ques- 
tion of the possibility of hybrid races of animals, is 
examined with great thoroughness, and even min- 
uteiiess of detail; tlie question of varieties among 
the domesticated animals, is discussed with the most 
complete command of facts of the liighest signifi- 
cance. The diffusion of species of animals and 
2)lants is treated with tlie same learned accuracy ; 
and every one of tliese discussions is enriched with 
statements of facts, observations, and experiments, 
man}^ of whicli are new, original, and decisive. The 
bearing of these facts is then shown upon the ques- 
tions which relate to the origin and dispersion of 
mankind, with a result Avhich is striking and happy 
beyond all expectation. On the whole, the work is 
so complete that this branch of the general subject, 
hitherto the most neglected, is now placed in the 
clearest liglit ; and Dr. Bachman's conclusion of the 
derivation of all mankind from a single pair, is 
altogether beyond the reach of any objection upon 
grounds of Natural History. No work upon the 

Unity of the Human Race. 305 

same subject has fallen into our hands which makes 
any approach to this, in the departments of which 
it principally treats, in thoroughness of investiga- 
tion, and in the decisive and triumphant establish- 
ment of its conclusions. * * * 

Dr. Summers, then Editor of " The Christian Ex- 
aminer,^' Nashville, Tenn. (in his " Personal Recol- 
lection "), writes : 

'' I had the honor of editing the Doctor's book, 
' The Unity of the Human Race." ^ -^ * It elicited 
warm commendations from learned and scientific 
men on both sides of the water ; among them the cele- 
brated Humboldt, whose letter to the Doctor was 
very complimentary. I hope that it has been pre- 
served among his papers." 

In 1854 and 1855, Dr. Bachman wrote and pub- 
lished two pamphlets, entitled 

An Examination of the Characteristics of Genera 
and Species as applicable to the Doctrine of the Uiiitu 
of the Human Race ; and, 

An Examination of Professor Agassiz^s Sketch of 
the Natural Provinces of the Animal World and their 
Relation to the different Types of Man, with a Tableau 
accompanying tJie Sketch. 

These pamphlets were called forth by a publica- 
tion entitled " Types of Mankind, or Ethnological 
Research based upon Ancient Monuments, etc.," by 
J. C. Gliddon and Nott. This work consisted of pas- 
sages from Dr. Morton's inedited MSS. ; Agassiz and 
Dr. Peterson also contributed ; but the greater por- 
tion of the work was the direct authorship of Messrs. 
Nott and Gliddon. 


Scientific Labors. 

An examination of the characteristics of genera and 
species — an examination of prof. agassiz' "natural 
provinces." — irumboldt's letter destroyed — letter 
from henry r. schoolcraft, indian commissioner. 

THE opening sentences of the following Mono- 
graph indicate the progress made in the study 
of Natural History during forty years — from 1795 
to 1855. Referring to his boyhood, Dr. Bachman 
tells us of the lyrejudices then entertained by the com- 
munit}" against the supposed trijiing study of Natural 
History ; but in 1855 he asserts : The advantages 
to he derived from the study of Natural History are 
now admitted by every intelligent mind. 

From boyhood an enthusiast in X'^atural History 
and kindred branches of science, we find him always 
in full sympathy witli every patient student of Na- 
ture, and holding out the hand of friendship to the 
humblest seeker after truth. But at tlie same time 
ready, with ungloved hand, to rebuke the temerity 
of the tyro, who paraded his little learning. 

Aa examinaiio)i of tlie Characteristics of Genera and. 
Species, as applicable to the Doctrine oj the Unity of 
the Hnman Ilace. 

So many advantages are derived from the study 
of Natural History, that at the present day it 
Mould be almost superfluous to do more than briefly 

The Stiidy of yature. 307 

allude to a fact, that now seems to be admitted by 
every intelligent mind. The supply of all the 
temporal wants of man, his food, his dress, the con- 
veniences he enjoys, remind him of a number of 
animals and plants, on which he is dependent for 
his comforts. There are others that are injurious 
to his welfare, and he is compelled to exercise his 
mind in warding off' the danger which is to be ap- 
prehended from their pernicious influences. But, 
apart from the almost necessity thus imposed on 
him in studying the objects of nature, he finds in 
this employment the means of enlarging his mind, 
of disciplining his memory, and of exalting his con- 
ceptions of creative power. The study of nature is 
the study of truth, and lie who reads these truths 
aright is rendered wiser, better and happier. He 
deems no object unworthy of his attention that is 
calculated to enlarge the field of knowledge, or that 
enables him to penetrate into the mighty plans of 
the Creator. 

There is another important subject connected with 
these investigations. The most enlightened, the 
purest and the best of mankind, regard the Scrip- 
tures as the revelation of God's will to mankind. 
The book of Nature has been given by the same 
Omniscient Power. His word and works cannot 
contradict each other. The former, it is true, was 
principally intended to convey religious truth, and 
impress on the human heart the doctrines of salva- 
tion, but it should be recollected that although the 
Bible was not given for the purpose of teaching 
the sciences, it cannot, consistently with inspiration, 
stand in opposition to that other record of the 
wisdom of the Deity that is given in His works. 
Hence the necessity of availing ourselves of all those 
facilities Avhich will enable us to interpret the laws 
of nature aright. Tt is tlie l)oast of infidelity tliat. 

308 John Baclimari. 

''viewed as a narrative, inspired by the Most High, 
its conceits woukl be pitiful and its revelations false, 
because telescoi)ic Astronomy has ruined its celestial 
structure ; Physics has negatived its cosmic organ- 
ism, and Geology has stultified the fabulous terres- 
trial mechanism upon which its assumptions are 
based. How then are its crude and puerile hypo- 
theses about human creation to be received ?"''^ Were 
this true, then according to the same author, '' The 
developments of science would have rendered any 
'iiew translations (of the Scriptures) altogether superer- 
ogatory among the educated who are creating nev 
religions for themselves." 

The (question then naturally arises, how are these 
bold assertions to be met, and to what sources must 
the human mind apply in order to arrive at truth, 
and thus solve its doubts and strengthen its re- 
ligious faith with confidence and hope ? Certainly 
there is no other mode accessible to man than by 
studying the book of Nature with an unprejudiced 
mind, and with all that preparatory knowledge, 
that careful analysis, that patient research and un- 
clouded judgment, which is essential in the investi- 
gation of so grave a subject. By pursuing this plan 
of study, we will be enabled to solve the mystery 
Avhy men, writing on the same subject, have ad- 
vanced such opposite opinions and pronounced such 
contradictory decisions. The authors of the '' Types 
of Mankind " have, with a positiveness which is 
seldom found among the humble students of nature, 
pronounced one set of opinions, whilst the greatest 
naturalists in the world, Linnaeus, Blumenbach, 
Cuvier, the two Humboldts, Owen, Pritchard, Bun- 
sen, Lepsius, and many others, have arrived at con- 
clusions directly the reverse. In searching more 

*Nott and Gliddon's Types of :^^ankind, p. 1G5. 

The Censor of Fn sumption. 300 

closely into tlie (|ualilicatioiis of the men who have 
pronounced these opposite opinions, we are not left 
in doubt as to the causes why they could not arrive 
at the same conclusions in professing to unfold the 
leaves of the same book of nature. 

Mr. Gliddon candidly informs his readers of the 
amount of knowledge in the sciences, which enabled 
him to pronounce so positive and startling a de- 
cision, that the sciences had so utterly demolished 
the " fabulous terrestrial mechanism " of revelation, 
that a " new translation was supererogatory." He 
tells his readers — '' My former pursuits in Moslem 
lands were remote from natural science, and dis- 
({ualify me from sharing the labors of its votaries," 
etc. Thus then we have the admission from his 
own pen and in print, that he is unqualified, from a 
want of knowledge on the subject, to express an 
opinion in matters of science, and yet the very 
sciences about which he professes to know nothing, 
have (in his opinion) utterly demolished the whole 
structure on which Christianity is founded. On the 
other hand Professor Owen, who has for a whole 
life studied the sciences, of which Gliddon had not 
yet read the alphabet, expresses his matured convic- 
tions in these words : — " Thus in reference both to 
the unity of the human species, and to the fact of 
man being the latest, as he is the highest of all 
animal forms upon our planet, the interpretations of 
God's works coincide with what has been revealed 
to us. as to our origin and zoological relations in the 
world. 3Ian is the sole species of his genus, the sole 
representative of his order." In investigating those 
preparatory studies, by whicli these gentlemen con- 
sidered themselves qualified to pronounce such 
opposite opinions, we are forcibly reminded of the 
caution of the poet : 

310 John Bachman. 

" A little learning is a dangerous thing, 
Drink deep, or taste not of the Pierian spring ; 
These shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, 
But drinking deeply sobers it again." 

The sciences in order to be understood must be 
studied. As there is order in all the works of 
Nature, naturalists have for ages past been engaged 
in interpreting her laws, and bringing her various 
productions under a systematic arrangement. By 
this means the study is simplified. By the co-ope- 
ration of numbers, each working in his favourite de- 
])artment, a mass of intellectual riches is acquired, 
which is transmitted to their immediate successors, 
and through them to posterity. ''^ " 

We should regard it as a work of superei-ogation 
to occupy any space herein to prove that however 
numerous may be the varieties — or races — or species 
in the human family, they must all, by the rules of 
science, be included under one genus. * * 

He points to Nature : 

A correct understanding of the laws of Nature 
in the creation of species would, we apprehend, en- 
able us to interpret her works with much greater 
certainty by an examination of the species and 
varieties she has produced, than by resorting to the 
monumental records of Egypt, Assyria, or of Central 
America. * :;< * 

These records he shows to have no legitimate 
bearing on the subject of the Unifi/ofthe Human Races. 

We possess a much better guide in the designa- 
tion of species, than that which could be given us 
by the rude stone chisel, or the painted daubs of the 
ancient lords of our forests. We possess the species 
themselves, with the characters impressed on them 

Unity of the Human Race. 311 

by the hand of the Creator, and from these we arc? 
enabled to decide on their identity, and from this 
identity we infer their primordial origin. All tlie 
fishes, and every species named by Agassiz, were de- 
scribed from the cliaracters they presented in 
Nature, without resorting to the unprofitable and 
impracticable search after their primordial existence. 
We may, however, here observe that the figures' 
of dogs and of men (the latter only are of any 
scientific value) on the Eastern monuments, have 
been carefully studied and delineated by master 
minds — men, at whose feet Mr. Gliddon has sat as 
an humble copyist. They are now giving to the 
world the result of their scientific researches. Both 
Lepsius and Bunsen have already proclaimed their 
belief in the doctrine of the Unity of the Human 
Race, and the former is now engaged in a work, in 
which he will offer reasons for the faith that is in 
him. Thus these monumental records, which 
caused Gliddon to pronounce, in the language of 
scorn and obloquy, a tirade against the Scriptures, 
convinced the minds of Lepsius and Bunsen of their 
truth, and filled them with humility, reverence and 
awe. Their scientific researches satisfied them of 
the truth of doctrines proclaimed by Moses, and 
confirmed by Faul : "■ And God hath made of one 
blood all nations of men for to dwell on the face of the 
earth, and hath determined the time before apjwinted, 
and the bounds of their habitation" Acts 17 : 26. 

After closely comparing the difterent Races of 
Men, he says ; 

So strikingly similar are the characteristics in 
all these varieties, that Professor Agassiz himself has 
been compelled to admit that " Man is everywhere 
the one identical species." Although, in his last pub- 

312 Jolin Bachman. 

lished opinions, he assumes, without giving any sat- 
isfactory reasons, that there might originally have 
been eight created nations, yet he is very cautious in 
not calling them species — and, in great doubt and 
uncertainty, adds : — " I still hesitate to assign to 
each (race) an independent origin." We are en- 
couraged to hope, therefore, that he who has always 
appeared to us as a searcher after truth, and who is 
courteous in his language, and scientific in his pur- 
suits, is not so hopelessh^ committed to an erroneous 
theory, as not to be induced to review the whole 
subject again. In the lower departments of Zoology^ 
he ranks at the head of the naturalists of our 
country, and we are not without a hope, that after 
having carefully studied those higher forms of 
animal life, which prepare us to form an unbiassed 
judgment in regard to man and his varieties, he may 
return to liis original views. 

If we look for those characteristics that are essen- 
tial to a species, they are found in every tribe of men 
in the whole earth. If we com^mre man with every 
variety in the species of domesticated animals, his 
variations present the same phenomena ; if we ascend 
higher and examine his instincts, the power of his 
mind, and his longings after immortality, we can- 
not but perceive that these gleams of intelligence 
and of hope exist, however partially developed, even 
among the most degraded and barbarous nations. 

An Examination of Professor Agassiz — Natural Provin- 
ces of the Animal World in their Eelatioii to the 
Different Types of Man, with a Tableau Accom- 
panying the Sketch. 

In the work called ''Types of Mankind," by Nott 
& Gliddon, the public is presented with a paper by 

Review of Agassi z. 313 

Prof. Agassiz, on the Natural Provinces.* As every 
thing that has emanated from the mind of a natu- 
ralist so eminent as Agassiz is admitted to be, liis 
views must always merit a respectful consideration, 
by all who are investigating the truths of nature. 
Our purpose in the present article is to subject this 
''Sketch of the Natural Provinces," with the '' Tab- 
leau annexed," to a close and impartial investigation. 
His object, as he informs us, was '' to call the atten- 
tion of naturalists to the close connection there is between 
the geographical distribution of aidmals and the natural 
houndaries of tlie different races of many 

Prof. Agassiz admits, '*' that notwithstanding the 
diversity of his races, raan constitutes one only, and 
the same species over all the globe." He, however, 
supposes that this same species of man was created 
*' broadcast " in groups all over the world. This 
would, we conceive, be requiring unnecessary mir- 
acles from the Creator. 

He divides the world into eight natural realms or 
provinces. To each zoological realm he has given 
figures of the head and skull, of the variety of man 
as existing in that province, together with seven or 
eight animals found in the same province. This is 
intended "to show that the boundaries, within which 
the different natural combination of animals are 
known to be circumscribed upon the surface of our 
earth, coincide with the natural range of distinct 
types of men." 

The great difficult v in the above theorv seems to 
ist. The impossibility of deciding on what are 
*' the natural provinces of the animal w^orld." 

2d. Whether the boundaries in the animal world 
are the same as those he has assigned to his types of 
men existing in those boundaries. 

*Nott & Gliddoii's Types; p. 23-31. 

314 John Bachman. 

3d. In what respect either in form, habits, or any 
other characteristics, there is the sliglitest resem- 
blance in man to the animal kingdom in the same 
zo<")logical province. 

When we, in 1840, were from a kind of necessity 
induced to publish our views in one department of 
science, we were somewhat at a loss to decide on the 
exact boundaries to which our labours should be 
restricted. The following were the views which we 
iinall}^ adopted as most convenient, and in accord- 
ance with nature. 

"We have arrived at the conclusion, that in un- 
dertaking the natural history of a country, our 
researches should not be confined to the artificial 
boundaries of States — which may be frequently 
changed ; but by those divisions, the limits of which 
are fixed by nature, and Avhere new forms mark the 
effects of a low latitucle and warm climate." '•' * ^' 

We have not seen any reason to change the views 
then expressed. There are natural boundaries, as 
Ave have before stated, and they will afford us some 
aid in our knowledge of the distribution of species, 
but as each species has its ]:)eculiar range, no boun- 
daries will be found to apply to all species even of 
the same genus. ''' ''' '•' 

The labors of naturalists during the last hundred 
years, in investigating the geographical distributions 
of animals and plants, were not only liarmless specu- 
lations, but added considerably to our previous 
knowledge of the laws of nature. But when nature 
is distorted for the purpose of advancing a theory' — 
when selections are made, and figures given of par- 
ticular species of animals in an imaginary province, 
to the omission of others, that are more character- 
istic, and would materially change the whole aspect 
of the question ; and when under the color of these 
erroneous views, the opportunity is eagerly seized 

.1 Be view. 315 

on by others, in the same volume, to heap on the 
Holy Scriptures and its ministers all manner of deri- 
sion and contempt, it becomes the duty of the natu- 
ralist, as well as of the Christian, to place the subject 
in its true light. This, as far as it relates to science, 
we are endeavoring to do in this article. We char- 
itably hope that Prof. A. was not aware of the con- 
tents of the volume to which his paper was intended 
to give circulation and celebrity. That book was 
ushered into the world under false colors. The 
names of eminent scientific men were paraded before 
the public as pledges that a reliable scientific work 
would be given, and as an inducement to men to 
patronize it. When this long promised work finally 
made its appearance, it was found that these meager 
contributions of naturalists from stores with which 
the public were already in possession, had been 
seized on by Mr, Gliddon, to afford him an opportu- 
nity of attacking the veracity of the Holy Scriptures, 
in attempts to unsettle the human mind, and de- 
prive it of all that is calculated to preserve public 
morals andprivate virtue, of all that enlightens con- 
science, and cheers us with the hope of immortality. 
'fi '^ ^ '^' 

We have entered reluctantly into this long and 
minute examination of Professor Agassiz's " Sketch 
of the Natural Provinces of the Animal World, and 
their relation to the different Types of Man," together 
with " the Tableau accomj)anying the Sketch." 
The believers in the plurality of races have heralded 
this and a former article, by the same writer, pub- 
lished in the Christian Examiner, both maintaining 
the same views, as new and unanswerable evidences 
of the truth of their doctrine. We will give a speci- 
men : " Let us acknowledge our large indebtedness 
to Prof. Agassiz, who has given the most masterly 
view of the geographical distribution of animals 

316 John Bachman. 

written in our language, or perhaps in any other. 
Not a line can be retrenched from his already con- 
densed articles without inflicting a wound, and we 
take much pleasure in referring the reader to them."* 
We would not intentionally " inflict a wound '' 
either on science or on Prof. Agassiz, since we are 
anxious for the promotion of the truths of the 
former, and entertain a personal regard toward the 
latter on account of his worth as a gentleman, and 
his indefatigable labors as a naturalist. Whatever 
scientific errors we may have committed in this 
review, we are prepared, if they are pointed out to 
us by a competent naturalist, thankfully to correct, 
and if a word has fallen from our pen that can be 
construed as personally oftensive to him, we will, 
with regret for the error, cheerfully erase it. Our 
sole object has been to present the truths of nature 
in the light in which we conscientiously regard 
them, and, as far as we are able, to avert those inju- 
rious eff'ects on the faith and hope of man, that may 
be produced by errors in science. 

A letter from Humboldt, with other valuable 
papers of this date, has, unhappily, been destroyed. 

The following letter is from the distinguished 
United States Indian Coinmissioner, Hemy E. 
Schoolcraft, who conducted the expedition when the 
long-sought-for source of the great Mississippi was 

AVashington, Sept. 23d, 1854. 

My dear Sir — I have received and perused your 
notice of the '' Types of Mankind;" and though writ- 
ing to me has become laborious, (for I am obliged 
to guide my right hand with my left,) 1 cannot re- 

^ Nott and Gliddon's Types of Mankind, p. 72. 

Letter from Schoolcraft. 317 

fraiii from expressing to you my thanks for this 
service to the cause of truth. 

The Types are, indeed, the fruits of the mountain 
that was in labor. From one end of the land to the 
other, subscribers have been drummed up for this 
work ; and when it come forth it is a patch-work of 
infidel papers from the living and the dead, by 
which we are informed that the Hebrew Chronology 
is false, that Moses was a demogogue and an im- 
poster, and that Christianity is a deception. 

Well, if this be all that America is to send back 
to Europe, after boasting of her rich stores of learn- 
ing, science, philosophy and religion for three Cen- 
turies ; it were better that the Aborigines had main- 
tained their dark empire of pow-wows and jugglers, 

The Indian, had at least, the merit of directness 
in his theological dogmas, and worshipped the devil 
without disguise, whereas, such men club their wits 
in this attack on Christianity, and conceal their real 
aim under the guise of a philosophical inquiry. 
Verv sincerelv your friend, 

H. R. S. 



D E F E N S E O F L U T H E R . 

Pp:rsoxal hecollections, by dr. summp:ks — defknsk ok 
luther and the reformation — lines on a flyleaf, by 
dr. johv l. girardeau — natural history for children — 
hobbies — snuff. 


R. SUxMMERS ill liis " Personal Recolledions 
writes : 

" I never knew a man, who bad more regard for 
"our poor relations" tlian Dr. Bachman. It was 
not confined to the noble horse and sagacious dog ; 
but it seemed to embrace every thing that had the 
breath of life. 

" The Doctor was so seated in the hearts of his 
})arishioners, that they almost worshipped him. In- 
deed, he Avas reverenced by nearly the whole com- 
munity. He was not much loved by the infidels, 
wliose *' science falsely so called," he so utterly de- 
molished. Some of our Roman Catholic brethren 
disliked him and not without cause. He defended 
the character of Luther from their defamations ; ex- 
])osed the licentious doctrines contained in Den's 
Theology, one of their text books, which they 
nffected to deny, and carried the war into Africa, 
by showing the demoralizing influence of the Con- 
fessional. '■'' '•' * * In his conti'oversy with the 
papists, the Doctor was goaded to unusual severity." 

While some of his Roman Catholic brethren, 
may have disliked him heartily, yet others appre- 

Defe^nse of Luther. olO' 

ciated the fact, that in the public defense of Luther 
he acted not from personal feelings, but from prin- 
ciple and a sense of duty. 

We recall a hospitable home, under the shadow of 
St. John's Church. The aged host, Mr. P., though 
a Roman Catholic, delighted to entertain and to 
refresh the Pastor of St. John's. 

On the occasion of a serious railroad accident, 
near Branchville, S. C, Dr. Bachman was at hand 
and gave efficient aid to the sorely bruised and 
wounded. With words of sympathy and encourage- 
ment, he endeavored to sustain their fainting cour- 
age, until the means of transportation could be 
obtained. Among the sufferers was a Mr. R., a 
Romanist, who, from that hour, frequently expressed 
in grateful terms his admiration for a man whose 
charity was not confined to those of his own creed 
and confession. 

In 1853, Dr. Bachman publislied ''A Dejmse of 
Luther and the Lleformation." 

He writes in his preface to the same: 

At the commencement of the controversy, I had 
no idea of writing more than four or five articles in 
defense of Luther. Having, however, been con- 
tinually goaded on by the attacks and denunciation?^ 
of the Catholic Miscellani/, I concluded that my in- 
domitable opponents could be best met by carrying- 
war into their own camp. I had hitherto been dis- 
posed to leave the cause of Protestantism to the 
defense of those better skilled in controversial theol^ 
ogy : the attack, however, on Luther, in my own 
city, under cir(;umstances most aggravated and 

o20 John Bachman. 

insulting, left me no alternative between a pusillani- 
mous silence, which would have been construed into 
iin admission of the truth of the charges, or an open,^ 
fearless defense. 

An ex -monk of LaTrappe, Rev. Leahey, who was^ 
in connection with the Dutch Reformed Church,-, 
advertised to give a lecture on " Popish Confession; 
and Priestcraft.'' Ladies and youths were prohibited 
from attending the lecture. The announcement 
created great excitement among the Romanists of: 
Charleston. One of the proprietors of the Americair 
Hotel (where Rev. L. boarded) applied to the City 
Council to know if the Corporation would be respon-. 
sible for damages to his property if the lecture was 
given in his hotel and a riot ensued. Rev. L. was 
also present, showed his credentials, and asked per-, 
mission to give the lecture. The City Fatliers were; 
divided in opinion, and a discussion ensued. One 
of the Aldermen, disclaiming any knowledge of 
the Reverend gentleman present, or of his lec- 
tures, remarked : " The Rev. Bishop John England, 
arrived in this city thirty-three years ago, and de- 
livered, weekly, a course of lectures to prove the 
Scriptures to be a divine revelation from God. His 
remarks against the Protestant churches in this city 
were very severe ; but he was ably answered by the 
Rev. John Bachman, D. I). At that time there was 
no riot or disturbance of the public peace, and why 
should there be one now ?" 

An Alderman, a member of the Roman Catholic 
Cliurch and an eminent physician, replied, that 

The Defense of Luther. 321 

•"In those lectures Bishop E. had not treated of 
topics not mentionable to tlie chaste ears of females 
or youths, or charged upon the present generation 
of Protestants the immoral practices licensed hj 
•their ' Chief Reformer,^ the sanction for which is ex- 
tant in his own writings." 

Some of the Aldermen were in favor of the right 
of free discussion by lecture or sermon, let the conse- 
quences be what they might ; and some expressed a 
willingness to concur in prohibiting the lecture, 
*^ could it be made to appear that the Council pos- 
sessed tJie constitutional authority to do so." Legal 
opinion was taken, and the City Council decided 
that the}^ had no authority to prohibit the lecture: 
but that the Corporation would not be responsible 
for damages in case a riot ensued. The lecture was 
not given. 

A communication was published in " The Charles- 
ion Courier " by the Koman Catholic Alderman, 
.reporting the discussion touching Leahey's lec- 
tures; which was copied in the " Catholic Miscellany'' 
Rev. B. Gildersleeve ( publisher of " The Charles- 
ton. Observer J' in connection with " llic WatcJnnan of 
the South,'^ at Richmond, Virginia,) thereupon took 
up the gauntlet, and replied in two letters. 

Dr. Bachman gives his reasons for entering into 
the controversy : 

" The multiplied calls on my time, and my period 
of life, would lead me infinitely to prefer the rest 
and quietude of m}^ own thoughts, agreeable studies, 
and ministerial labors and associations, to the ex- 

322 John Bachwan. 

citement, and often embittered feelings, which are 
engendered by a religious controversy. When, how- 
ever, great principles are to be defended, and the 
reputations of the benefactors of mankind are to 
be rescued from defamation, it then becomes our 
duty to lay aside, for a time, our more agreeable 
occupations and to battle manfully in the cause 
of truth, of justice, and the pure principles of Chris- 

As a native American citizen, and an inhabitant 
of Charleston for nearly forty years, I have felt 
deeply grieved that an attempt has been made, 
resulting in partial success, by a Roman Catholic 
Alderman, to deprive one who professes to be a 
Protestant clergyman, of the privilege of free discus- 
sion in matters of religion ; and he, as a member of 
the (/ity Council, voting against his being protected 
from a Roman Catholic mob. 

* -sf 'Y: -X- * -X- * 

Men's characters are formed from the school in 
which they are educated. The principles we liave 
imbibed, influence our character and conduct. 

The Roman Catholic is taught to render implicit 
obedience to the Church. That (.'hurch he believes 
infallible. ^ ^ ^ 

The Protestant founds his religion on the teach- 
ings of the Scriptures. * * * If the 
Reformers were not perfect in their lives, this does 
not affect his religion — that is derived from the 
Scriptures, not from the opinions of men. He be- 
lieves the true Catholic, or universal Church, is com- 
posed of the pious and good of every tongue and 
nation, and every form of religion, and that Jesus 
Christ is the Head of the Church. 

The time now liad come to test the efficacy of 
these different teachings, in the same city, (Charles- 
ton), and within a few days of each other. 

The Defense of Luther. 323 

Leahey was about to give a lecture, as he, at the 
time, informed some of the clergy, on the impure 
tendency of Den's Theology and other Roman 
Catholic books which are used in their seminaries. 
He requested that women and children should not 
come to the lecture, as he was about to make " awful 
disclosures." From the nature of Den's Theology, 
which directs the priest how to ferret out the secret 
thoughts of woman's heart, I should be sorry to hear 
it detailed — even to the ears of men. At the first 
publication, however, of his intentions, a mob 
gathers around his lecture-room, and neither the 
laws of the city, nor the power of their Bishop, nor 
notices read from their pulpit, could restrain the 
Romanists from threatening violence and blood. 
The man was compelled to flee. 

About the same period a Roman Catholic Alder- 
man did not threaten only, but actually made and 
published " awfid disclosures,'^ professing to convict 
•' the Chief Reformer of the Protestant faith with im- 
moral teaching, and plainly sanctioning concubi- 
nage, polygamy and adultery." And what was 
the efi^ect on the Protestant part of the community, 
especially on that branch of it which professes the 
Evangelical Lutheran faith ? * -^ * They are 
composed of men of all ranks — high and low, edu- 
cated and ignorant, rich and poor, from the Chancel- 
lor on the bench to the laborer on the railroad. 
They revere the memory of the " Chief Reformer." 
What was now their conduct? Did a mob threaten 
to pull down the house of the offending Alderman 
over his head ? Was it necessary to call on the City 
Council for protection? Did their ministers find it 
necessary to issue a bulletin to their people, implor- 
ing them to keep the peace? No! their answer 
was, '* AVe will tolerate error as long as we have truth 
to combat it with." 

824 John Bachinan. 

During the controvers}^ occasional letters signed 
" Many Protestants," appeared in the Charleston 
Xeivs, showing the deep interest felt by the Pro- 
testant part of the Community in the defence of 
Luther. On the Romanist side, Dr. Lynch, (after- 
wards Bishop) and others appeared. 

TJir WatcJiman of tJic SoutJt, and leading Protestant 
Journals, united witli the Charleston community in 
the request, that the defense of Luther sliould be 
preseryed in a permanent form. 

The following lines are found on the iiy leaf of a 
copy of Dr. Bachman's Defense of Luther, in the 
liand-writing of his friend, John L. Girardeau, D. D.: 

" When the great German Reformer and the Pro- 
testant Reformation were assailed in the Council 
Chamber of Charleston, Dr. Bachman intrepidly 
came to the front and yindicated them in the im- 
pregnable argument of this book. 

" John Bachman was one of the noblest men I eyer 
knew, and one of the most glorious men of this 

'Ms an original observer in the iield of Natural His- 
tory, he did not haye an equal in this country, and 
no superior among his cotemporaries in Europe. 
His personal inyestigations went far towards settling 
the question agitated in his day, of the Lenity of the 
Human Race. He was equal 'y remarkable as a 
practical philanthropist. By night and by day, in 
sunshine and in storm, he ministered with un- 
Avearied assiduity to the sick and the poor: and when 
tlie destroying angel swooped down in season of 
epidemic, he opposed him, as if he Avere an angel 
from Heayen yested in the garb of humanit3^ 

" When Bachman died, Science and Religion 

Stories for Children. 325 

walked arm in arm and togetlier laid their blended 
wreaths of laurel and cypress upon his honored 

The controversy^ ended and the book published, 
Dr. Bach man turned to more agreeable occupations, 
among these were stories on Natural History, for 
the instruction and amusement of children. 

Dr. Summers, then editing the Sunday School 
Visitor in Charleston, writes : 

" I furnished the Doctor cuts of animals, and he 
wrote charming articles for the children, which were 
highly prized by the readers of that periodical. I 
preserved the bound volumes for the four years I 
edited it, but they were destroyed by fire in 1872. 
I hope that tiles have been preserved by others, that 
these admirable communications maybe reproduced 
when the Doctor's literarv remains shall be })ub- 

We remember this bright, fresh series of Stories 
on Natural History, welcomed and enjoyed by parents 
as well as children, copies of which were preserved 
for years in the Pastor's home. Unfortunately they 
have been destroyed. 

He had many hobbies — his garden, poultry, bees, 
etc., and he led hosts of his friends to find healthful 
occupation and amusement for their leisure hours. 

He was very successful in raising ducks. Just 
beyond his vegetable-garden there lay a salt-water 
pond. Here he set traps and caught by the whole- 
sale minnows, eels, etc., to feed his ducks, and they 

326 John Bachrnan. 

repaid him for their generous diet. One year lie 
raised over three hundred. 
Dr. Summers writes: 

" Of course the Doctor went into the rage for 
Shanghai Fowls, when they came to the 'fore.'' He 
showed me one day, a hen which hiid one hundred 
and twelve eggs in one hundred and sixteen days. 
She did not keep many Sabbaths ! Of course she 
was a great pet. 

The Doctor came to our office on one occasion in 
a pleasant mood, and said : 'Summers, I'm going to 
Synod, and I will give you a Shanghai cock and 
two hens of my tine breed, if you will preach for me 
in my absence, and Wightman, (afterwards Bishop — 
Methodist Church), I shall make the same bargain 
with you.' We both agreed. T remarked that I must 
have the fowls in advance ! The fowls came — fine, 
fat fellows, and the sermons were preached." 

His tine ducks, Shanghai fowls, etc., he frequently 
distributed amonir his friends. 


From his son-in-l.wv, Mr. Haskell. 

" I thank you very much for your present of fine 
Shanghais ; i cannot get Harriet to send you iha five 
fat hens promised ; but you shall have them, if I 
have to dealthew. from her. ('ome up to Oakland, I 
am keeping all the deer for you. Three were started 
yesterday, but none killed." 

From his Daughter Harriet : 

My dear P'ather : Don't believe a word Mr. H. 
«ays about the hens. I am so anxious to get them 
to you, that it was as much as he could do to pre- 
vent my sending them to you by Ben on horse- 

. At Synod. B27 

back, in the market-basket. I write to ask you to 
come up as soon as possible, and take your pick of the 
finest. The Shanghais are doing well, notwithstand- 
ing sundry visits from the rats. I have named 
them after five young gentlemen, and have already 
selected the names of the three Lady-Shanghais 1 
wish you to save for me. If you succeed in pro- 
curing the ferrets, Mr. H. asks that you will give 
directions with regard to the mode of keeping 
them, etc. * * '^ 

P. S. — Little John Bachman, says, '* tell Grand-pa, 
I never cry now when I am washed." We have 
made a rule that he shall only ride on his ponv 
when he is good. ^ ^ ^^ H. E. H. ' 

The Synod of South Carolina convened at St. 
Matthews. Dr. Bachman, wrote : 

To Mrs. Bachman : 

St. Matthews, Nov. 12th, 1853. 

We arrived here in safety, found carriages in 
superfluity at Lewisville. The land is flowing in 
abundance — turkeys, sausages, pigs, and everything 
else to cause a man to eat to fulness and invite 
•dyspepsia to take up his abode within him. I am 
(juite well, but sleepless. T am either too much ex- 
cited by talking with my old friends, whom I have 
met again after a year's separation, or I have laid 
in too many creature comforts, or taken too strong 
cofl'ee, or breathed too much of the smoke of the 
Indian-weed. Which it is, I know not; but I have 
not had one hour's sound sleep since I left home. I 
f?hall, however, make a desperate effort to sleep to- 
night. I have eaten no supper, changed my room— 

o2S Johii BacJnnan, 

where I shall not hear S snore, and I have 

barred the door against tobacco smoke. 

We have much business l^efore the Synod, and I 
really cannot guess v/hen we shall get through 
with it, certainly not before Wednesday night. I 
shall write you again, if possible ; but we are some 
miles awa}^ from the Postoffice. 

Dr. Bachman disliked the smoke of the weed, but 
he enjoyed a pinch of snufi'. Dr. Summers tells us 
that his friend, knowing his aversion to snuff, used 
to tease him by taking out his snuff-box. 

''Opening and tapping it as onl}^ an inveterate 
snuff-taker can do it, he would proffer it to me to 
excite my impotent rage. But one day he talked 
about it very seriously, deeply regretting that lie 
had become a slave to the bad habit. He said that he 
once determined to break his chains. He took 
passage in a sailing ship from Charleston to Europe, 
filling his snuff-box, but taking no further supply. 
There are no tobacconist's shops in the A^tlantic, so 
that when his box should be emptied, he could not 
replenish it, and thus he would break the habit. 
Several young men took passage with the Doctor. 
In two or three days he exhausted the box. The 
first day after, he felt moping and uneasy, and the 
next da}^ nervous and petulant ; the day after that, 
ready to jump overboard. The young men, who 
were watching him closely, having got wind of his 
intention, smuggled a bladder of snuft' into his 
state-room. He told me that when he saw it, he 
plunged incontinently into it, and snuffed and 
snuffed again. He had enough to last him the 
Avhole voyage, and never did attempt to break his 
chain ; and never after this confession did I abuse 
him for snuffing." 

Self control. 329 

But later Dr. Bacliman broke his chains. With 
his indomitable will, he could not, without con- 
tinued struggle, remain a slave to a habit he 

At the close of the war, (1865), he wrote to Mr. 
R. G. C, a member of his congregation, thanking 
him for sundry useful and valuable gifts. 

" My heart is overflowing with gratitude, more 
than language can express. I ought to suffer with 
the commnuity around me — and I have not suffered 
in proportion with others. One thing, however, I 
have done, I have practiced a little more self-denial. 
I had been a snuff-taker for forty years, and I had 
tried three times to wean myself from the vice. I 
have done it effectually now, and my snuff-box is 

lying idle in my daughter C 's desk ; so I use 

neither spirits nor tobacco in any form." 

, This was nine years before his death. He never 
once again " opened and tapped his box," proffered it 
to a friend, or took a friendly pinch from his neigh- 
bor's snuff-box. 


A \'isiT TO Florida. 

Scientific and pastorai- work — in the home — the mirab- 
ilis — his axmanuensis — anxious hours — a successful 
hunt — visit to florida. 

THE Correspondence preserved during the years 
1851, 1855 and 1856, would indicate that these 
years were, humanly speaking, uneventful to the 
suhject of this memoir. 

Perhaps a suitable heading would be icorh. Scien- 
tific articles and pamphlets published and in course 
of preparation, general work undertaken for the 
benefit of the community at large, work appointed 
by Synod and, above all, his life-work — the charge 
of St. John's — on the Pastor's side, earnest, faithful 
service, on that of his large congregation, unfailing 
confidence and consideration. 

In his home we trace the gentle courtesies that 
softened the cares and sorrows of life. Like the cal- 
endar, they began on New Year's Day, and con- 
tinued until crowned by festive December. 

Found on fJie fly leaf of a Note- book. 

To Mrs. Bachman : 

January 1st, 1855. 
" The Spring and Summer time of life passes 
onward to the sober realities of Autumn and the 
AVinter's storms; times and seasons change; but 

The Wound of a Friend. 331 

affections, founded on intelligence and worth, are 
perennial. Like pure streams flowing through the 
valleys, they widen and deepen until they are puri- 
fied and perpetuated in the wide ocean of eternitv. 

J. B.'' 

Copy of leaf dedicatory in " Wood's United States 
Dispensatory y 

My Dear Wife — If I supposed 1 hat you were 
fond of finery, I might have given you a silk dress, 
or a Cashmere shawl — which you fully merit ; if 
emulous of articles of taste and extravagance. I 
would have selected books of engravings in gilded 
and embossed binding. But, as your tastes are sim- 
ple, practical and economical, allow me to present 
you with a good family book, full of knowledge and 
calculated for daily use. 

Your devoted husband, J. B.'" 

Dec. 25th, 1855. 

We have alluded to the mirth-provoking rhymes 
that were frequently placed on the Pastor's plate at 
table. These compositions were written at the insti- 
gation of the younger members of the family — Mrs. 
Bachman was generally the composer. If the liits 
.were too hard, the Pastor's hlank verse was always 
ready at hand. He would laugh and say, "In my 
youth I indulged in waiting poetry, and sent my 
early effusions to the village newspaper for publi- 
cation. Then I waited, with no little interest and 
curiosity, for the comments and criticism that were 
sure to follow. One day I drew out a remark from 
a gentleman whose opinion I valued on this subject. 
Pointing to the paper, I said : ' What do you tliink 

332 John Bachrnan. 

of this poetry ? ' He replied : ' The fellow who 
wrote it would, probabl}', c/o better cd the jdow.' From 
that time I saved quires of paper, and much precious 
time." But his liome effusions were given to far less 
critical ears, and were received with hearty greet- 
ings and followed hy genuine applause and merri- 

Mrs. Bachman's poetry was very simple, written 
for the pleasure and amusemeiit of the home circle. 
One of her best was : 

" The Appeal of the Mirabilis'' (Four O'clock). 

Dr. Bachman had become weary of these fragrant 
flowers that grew year after year in the little plot 
before his study windows, and he bade the gardener 
pull them up. But the little silvery tongued mes- 
senger came in and ap})ealed to so many tender 
memories in his heart, that the gay old-fashioned, 
unpretending flower was allowed to remain and to 
bloom, undisturbed, year after year. 

To Mrs. Lucy Audubon: 

March 30th, 185(). 

As your old and faithful correspondent and friend, 
is now, by the will of a Wise Providence, deprived of 
the privilege of writing to you or to any one else, I 
w^ite to give you the sad particulars. 

When she was at New Orleans, on her way to 
Cuba with our dear Eliza, lier foot slipped and she 
injured her right arm in the fall. At first she com- 
plained of the })ain at intervals of three or four 
months, then more frequently ; but for two months 
past, the pain has been incessant, and the hand has 
become helpless. 

Anxieties. 333 

To one of her iictive habits— so fond of painting, 
sewing, and corresponding witli her friends, it is a 
very great deprivation. Onr daughters do every- 
tliing for her comfort ; but she misses the privilege 
of occupation ; and regrets most that she can no 
longer be useful to me and to those around her. 

Her physicians think that even amputation 
would not prevent her constitution from being 
hopelessly shattered. To myself her present situa- 
tion is full of foreboding and terrible anxiety. She 
has been a mother to my children — my adviser — on 
whose judgment I always relied ; my companion, 
my help in all things. Conscientious in all her 
duties, gentle and confiding, my home would be 
desolate without lier. 

My children and grandchildren are all devoted to 
her. I shall be glad if you will all write to her — 
write cheerfully, and, as far as you can, encourag- 
ingly. She is not naturally buoyant in spirit ; but 
her mind is well disciplined in the school of trial 
and adversity. 

In all other respects Providence has smiled upon 
us. I am able to attend to my ministerial duties, 
and on last Sunday, had an accession of twenty to 
the Church. 

With love to all, " '^ 

J. B. 
To Victor Audubon : 

As your Aunt Maria is unable to writ(.% I answer 
your letter ; she is trying to write with her left hand, 
but she is so inexpert, that you w^ould not recognize 
the waiting as coming from one belonging to our 
house. Her right arm becomes every day more 
rigid, and what will be the result, God only knows. 
She has long been to me more than a right hand, 
and it is my duty now to cheer and encourage her, 

834 John Bachman. 

and to make her life as pleasant as kindness and 
devoted affection can render it. She bears all with 
great patience and submission. She is in my study 
seated by my side. 

We are sorry that you have not been well. Aunt 
Maria begs me to say to you, that a few tveelcs spent 
in old Charleston would cure you. Our Winter was 
severe, and the Spring is backward ; the Jasmines 
are now in full bloom, our Wistaria is superb — and 
our hearts are open to welcome you. Can you not 
come on and see us ? - * ^ * * 

P. S. Fkom Mrs. Bachman: 

With my left hand I will add, that I believe the 
sight of you, would do me more good than all the 

You remember the fall I had in New Orleans. I 
must, then, have dislocated my elbow, which now, 
after the lapse of sixteen years, renders the arm 
useless. M. B. 

The following February, (1857,) Mrs. Bachman's 
health was yet more seriously undermined by an 
attack of pneumonia. Her physician, fearing that 
in her enfeebled condition her constitution could 
not stand the shock of such a disease, prudently 
concealed from his patient the nature of her dis- 
order. When it was found necessary to call in a 
consulting physician, he came as a friend and brought 
with him a specimen of a rare plant, saying, " We 
want you to help us to find the name of this strange 
plant. When we doctors are puzzled in Materia 
medica we come to you ; but first you must let us 
help you to get rid of this wretched cold." 

Hope. 335 

Her husband could not trust himself near her for 
more than a few mmutes at a time, lest he should 
betray his fears and anxieties. He had begun to 
have his flower-garden dug up and enriched in 
trenches ; here he spent most of his time, to be with- 
in call, if she should suddenly grow worse. The 
passer by who watched him apparently entirely ab- 
sorbed in his work, never guessed the motive — the 
almost necessity for bodily labor. When the 
trenches were finished, they were found to be too 
deep, only the roots of the most vigorous plants 
reached the rich soil beneath; his friends under- 
stood the cause of his too thorough work in his flower- 

To Victor Audubon. 

March 2d. 1857. 

To-day, I can write you encouragingly with re- 
gard to my good wife's health ; to-morrow I shall 
take her to " Kalmia " to spend a few weeks with 
her friend, Mrs. Gregg. I shall come down always 
at the close of the week. I find myself enjoying life, 
and still able to go through a certain amount of 
labor. ^ * ^K ^ 

Mrs. Bachman's condition for some time kept me 
much at home — my mind was too anxious to allow 
me to read or to w^rite with any composure or satis- 
faction — I found resources in my gardens and poultry. 
I have been very successful in raising both vegeta- 
bles and poultry, and am, almost independent of the 

Come to us about the first of October, and perhaps 
1 may spare time to go with you to Florida — the 

■336 John Baclmian. 

finest Winter climate in the world. We all long to 
hear favorable news of vour health. '^ - - - 

J. B. 

In November, 1857, six of his grandchildren were 
ill with " Scarlet Fever ; " John Haskell's case was 
mild at first, but a relapse brought him to the 
borders of the grave. His grandfather anxiously 
Avatched at his bedside — the attendant physician 
had abandoned all hope of his recover}^ John 
Haskell used to say, in reference to this illness, "My 
grandfather's prayers brought me back to life." 

To John Audubon : 

Charleston, Dec. 17th, 1857. 

" Another year is drawing to a close, how rapidly 
time flies ! Old reminiscences crowd into my mind. 
I embrace the leisure of a rainy morning to answer 
long neglected letters — yours is the first on the list. 

The sick, thank God, are all better. Mrs. Bach- 
man has gained seven pounds, although she now 
reaches but seventy-eight pounds — thetveight of three 
ivell fattened old gobblers. Haskell's children are all 
in health again. John, who was so very ill, came 
from the country last week and paid us a visit. 

I have been troubled with dyspepsia, I sleep badly 
and have night-mare; but I know the cure — the 
country and an ambling pony. So I said last week, 
I will go to ' Goose Creek ' and take a hunt, and 
defji tills intruder on my repose. I Avent, but was called 
home b}^ a sick parishioner, two hours after I had 
been in the woods. I was, however, so fortunate as 
to kill one youn.n: buck and to wound another, 
which I suppose the. boys captured. I could not re- 

A Deer Hunt. 337 

main, but hastened home. Even tliis snatch of 
country air did me good^I must go again. Since 
the planters liave fenced off intruders and given u]) 
hunting in Summer, the deer have increased beyond 
our expectations. They have, on several occasions, 
started forty in a morning — and once ten were in a 

My son W m and liis wife are here to spend 

the Christmas holidays. I wish you were with us 
to join them to-day at dinner ; we are to have a 

haunch of venison and a ivild turkey. W m longs 

to get into a snipe-bog — an amusement which I 
should not much relish. Sons and daughters are 
all well. '' * - * 

My little grandsons come over almost every, 
morning to join me at breakfast. With love to all, 
and hoping to see some of you in my home. 

Affectionately yours, J. B. 

To THE Same : 

" You asked me in your last to give you an ac- 
count of our visit to " Liberty Hall," Goose Creek. 
My old friend B. went up with me and we gave one 
day to the ducks and small game, and another to 
the deer. 

The duck-shootino- was moderatelv good. I could 
not crawl in the mud, or wade up to my waist in 
water,, so that I took them on the Aving ; sometimes 
I tumbled over one or two fat fellows at a shot, and 
then again only made the feathers fly. I bagged 
some Wood-cocks and a few Partridges ; there were 
no Snipe, and, when I had a chance at a couple of 
old Gobblers, I had only Snipe-shot, so I saved my 
powder and my credit, and let the Gobblers run. 
. The Deer-hunt was worth talking about. We had 
two young fellows with us, wlio now and then hit — 

338 John Bachman. 

but their general rule was to miss. We heard them 
banging away at the Deer right and left — they 
seemed to have all the hiii to tliemselves ; but when 
they had taken seven siiots, and killed only a young- 
buck, our turn came. Two Deer came in sight of 
B., he fired and wounded one, and the other came 
in my direction. I fired at ninety-two yards, and 
off he went. Soon after, B.'s wounded Deer hove in 
sight and I rolled him over in fine style. The 
splendid doe I had fired at, came now within a few 
hundred yards, and, with a single shot through the 
lungs, fell dead. We kept our stands and sent the 
driver back. Soon three Deer came in gunshot of 
B. He dropped one on the spot, and wounded 
another ; the third, a roaring buck, came towards 
me like a hurricane ; I pulled trigger and he made 
half a dozen somersets, managed to leap the fence, 
and then gave in his adhesion. The boys took a 
seven mile chase and captured B.'s wounded Deer. 
We had six Deer strung up under the old pecan- 
nut tree, and we felt that we had glory enough for 
one day. Tell me, ran you get up such a pleasant 
little hunt anywhere in the neighborhood of the 
Palisades? John, how vou would have relished the 
iun? '' - '' 

LoN(j Swamp, Mahiox Coi ntv, Fi.x., April 1st, 1860. 

My dear, blessed Wh'v : Night before hist was a 
very happy evening to me. Col. S. had taken me on 
an expedition of sight-seeing and of pleasure to 
Withlacoochee river and to Panasofkee Lake, where 
we remained two days. Wo returned Friday at 
five P. M. Tt was mail day and I hoped to hear 
from liome ; so ofi' we started tli rough the pine 
woods and circled around the trees for sixteen 
miles. At eight o'clock, P. M., in the moonlight, 
we reached our destination. Sure enough, there 

Florida. 330 

was your long and most delightful letter, written 
with your left hand. It repaid me for my night's 
ride ; it relieved my mind of anxiety and enabled 
me to sleep like a top. Thank God for all his 
goodness ! 

I preached to-day, (Sunday), and baptized Bach- 
man Hazel las — a boy of twelve, with a skin as black 
as Corvus-Americanus. Now I think that it will be 
no sin, and no playing the April fool, if I write you 
a letter. 

M}' health has improved greatly, my disease was 
checked and nature worked the further cure. 

We have venison every day, and enioy the finest 
fish that ever floated in a transparent lake. I par- 
take of food moderately, and, at night, take a cup of 
tea, but eat no supper. * * * * * 

The Geological structure of this country is most in- 
teresting, but very simple — it is almost a uniform 
level. The land, like the bed on which Charleston 
stands, lias been formed from the ocean. There 
have been upheavals throughout the whole State — 
these have produced fissures in the lime-stone rocks 
beneath, the waters percolating through the .sand, 
are purified and become like crystal. These are 
discharged into innumerable lakes — Griffin, Orange, 
Ware, with smaller lakes, every eight or ten miles, 
abounding in the finest fresh-water fish in the world. 

There are scarcely any rivers in Florida; even 
the St. John's River is but a succession of lakes; 
the streams, such as they are. run from South to 
North. It is a singular country- Suddenly — in a 
single night, half an acre of ground, it is said, settles 
down, perhaps twenty feet, and is found full of 
crystal water, large fish, and now and then an Alli- 
gator — all carried through some underground rail- 

One thing has struck me every day ; for twenty 

340 John Bachman. 

miles there may be no settlement, yet you cannot 
divest your mind of the idea that you are in a finely 
cultivated country. The prairies look like farms ; 
the Live Oak and Orange groves, cause you in- 
voluntarily to look for the farm-house. Moreover, 
the whole country is full of cattle — not wild ; the 
shepherds drive them up, and mark them, at least, 
twice in the 3^ ear. This was the country for the 
lazy Indian ; fish most abundant, game plentiful, 
the Kunty-root for bread, plenty of light-wood, herds 
•of cattle, Indian ponies, pumpkins, melons, ground- 
nuts and sweet potatoes — the latter remaining in 
the ground, and growing larger with age. Then 
the rich hammocks — fifty bushels of corn can be 
raised to the acre. 

I have been much gratified at finding many 
specimens in Natural History that the world knows 
of only by^iame, and several species of undescribed 
plants. The Deer are not plentiful — they have 
been killed by the disease called " black tongue." 

They are fast clearing out the Cougars in this part 
of Florida — we staid with a gentleman who has 
killed upwards of ninety. We saw their tracks and 
those of the Bear at Withlacoochee. Here the Par- 
roquets fly about like Wild Pigeons, and I found 
the Florida Jay breeding here; I saw about fifty 
Whooping-Cranes, examined their nests and hope to 
bring home their eggs, of which Naturalists, as yet 
know nothing. 

I have given the Colonel a lesson in Wild-cat 
hunting, that I think will enable him to rid himself 
of these pests. The boys go out at daylight with 
the dogs, and the Cat is treed. They blow the horn ; 
then we ride up, rattle the buck-shot around his 
ears, sling him behind the saddle and go home to 

I wish that vou could have seen us bobbing for 

Florida, 341 

Trout on the lake. I caught one that I think might 
have served to feed our whole family. There were 
Bream and Perch caught that weighed from two 
pounds to perhaps four. I shall see you on 
Saturday next. Ask me then whether the Trout are 
as big as little J. 

Love to all, 

J. B. 


Work for the Church. 


In 1858, at the age of sixty-eight, Dr. Ba^hmari 
spoke of himself as an old man ; but, in fact, he was 
then scarcely beyond the prime of his rich, full life. 
We quote his words, used after anxious and exhaust- 
ing labors; "I know a cure, a run into the country, 
and an ambling pony. Providence has smiled up- 
on me, and I find myself enjoying life and able to 
accomplish a certain amount of labor" — and this 
was no small amount. 

In the winter-home of his son-in-law, Mr. W. E. 
Haskell, he enjoyed, besides his panacea, "country 
air and horseback exercise," the society and devoted 
attentions of his daughter, Harriet Eva, Mrs. W. E. 
Haskell. There was a singular congeniality of tem- 
perament between father and daughter; alike ener- 
getic, buoyant, and loving, the interchange of visits, 
after her marriage, was looked forward to with mu- 
tual delight. 

Forty-third Anniversary. 34S 

In April, 1858, his daughter's family formed part 
of his household in Charleston. On the 12th of May, 
an event occurred, that broke in upon the even tenor 
of his life, and overshadowed all its brightness — the 
death of this beloved daughter. 

Mrs. W. E. Haskell, at the age of thirty-five, was 
laid to rest, with her baby at her side. 

The country home, where he had spent so many 
happy days, was forthwith abandoned, and his four 
granddaughters from that time became members of 
his household (John Haskell remaining with his 

Again the Pastor of St. John's closed the door of 
his study, and gave one day to " the luxury of grief* 
Then he came forth bravely to meet the labors and 
cares of life; but, when the shadows of evening 
lengthened, and the pressing duties of the day were 
ended, tender recollectionsof the young life that had 
been his pride and jo}^ flooded his heart He would 
sit rapt in thought, until aroused by the voices 
of his little grandchildren singing their evening 

January 10th, 185S, Dr. Bachman celebrated the 
fortj^-third anniversary of his ministry in Charles- 
ton. We give a few extracts from the sermon 
preached on that occasion. 

Deuteronomy Chap. IV, 32. " Ash noio of the 
days that are j)ast.^^ 

The traveller wearied and perplexed by the oc- 
currences on the road, .sometimes sits down to 
review his travels, and recalls to his mind the pleas- 

344 John Bo dim an. 

ant or the painful occurrences on the road. He hopes 
to be profited by the recollection of the past failures 
or successes. He looks forward with intense anxiety 
to the end of his journey, and anticipates the pleas- 
ure of meeting again with those, from whom he 
has been separated for a brief season. In the same 
manner, the Christian traveller has his periods 
sacred to thought ; and with regard to his spiritual 
life, he often pauses to ask of the days that are past. 

In the life of your aged pastor, this is one of those 
solemn periods, pregnant with recollections, through 
a long series of years, in his ministry. Come then, 
my Christian friends, let us calmly, earnestly, and 
prayerfully, ask of the days that are past. 
^ It does not become me to dw^ell on my own labors 
in this congregation. I feel how imperfect are the 
best efforts of man : wherever there have been suc- 
cesses, let us ascribe all the praise and glory to God, 
to whom they legitimately belong. Men are but the 
instruments, and He. the Master, often gives the 
blessing, while the servant is unw^orthy. 

There are at ]^resent 352 whites entitled to com- 
munion in this Church. Of these nearly 100 have 
removed into various parts of the country, but still 
retain their membership with us. The colored com- 
municants amount to 198 — making in the aofgregate 

During my ministry of forty-three years, 1 have 
baptized 4,085 children and adults, 1,835 of these 
were colored. I have confirmed and received into 
the communion of the Church 2,100 — 800 were col- 
ored. I joined in the holy bands of wedlock 910 
couples, of these about 300 were colored. I buried 
1,210 whites (I have no account of the funerals of 
the colored communicants, as their funeral services 
were generally performed by their leaders.) * * * 
It is scarcely possible to preserve a perfect accuracy 

A nni versary Sermon . 345 

in these records ; and I have learned from long ex- 
perience, that many mistakes and omissions una- 
voidably occur. 

The above will give you, however, some insight 
into the lifjhtf^ and si ladows in the life of a clergyman. 
His moments oi enjoyment are succeeded by hours 
of anxiety and days of sorrow. Those whom he 
has baptized and admitted into the Church, he 
looks upon as his children. Tf they are pious and 
happy, the Pastor's heart rejoices ; if they become 
careless and unfaithful, he is deeply grieved, and 
when they are separated by death, he mourns over 
them as a loss in his own family. * * * 

Alluding to the changes which death had wrought 
during his ministry, from 1815, he tells us: 

When I arrived among you, our country was 
under the administration of Madison, tlie fourth 
President of the United States — all but Washington 
were living — these are now all dead; and, of the 
nine Presidents that succeeded him, six are also in 
their graves. 

On niy arrival in Charleston, I became a member 
of tlie German Friendly Society, which was then 
composed of nearly one hundred members — these 
have all passed away, and I am now the oldest 

Of the few communicants I found in this Church 
on my arrival, one only is now alive. Of the eleven 
whose names were signed to my call — nine vestry- 
men and four wardens — all are gone to their ac- 
count. Of the committee of twenty-one, who, in 
1815, reported on the expediency of building this 
Church, all are dead. Of the Pastors who occupied 
the pulpits of our city on my arrival, not one is 
living. Oi the managers of the Bible Society, who 

346 John Bachman. 

met in 1815, I only am left, and, of its members, i 
am the oldest on their record. 

At our first confirmation, in 1810, sixty-four per- 
sons were dedicated to God, nine only are now alive. 
Nearl}^ all of these are now before me. You, my 
dear friends, who were the first fruits of my min- 
istry — you are all that are now left of that crowd — 
the rest have fallen by the hand of death, and be- 
come the tenants of the devouring grave. You, my 
friends, will surely draw near to me in my decline 
of life, and exhibit to the younger generations your 
faith in God, your love and constancy to the Saviour, 
and your assured hope of everlasting life. * * * 

Little remains of that thread of life which has 
been spun out in the midst of you. In a few weeks 
I shall have attained my sixty-eighth year. I 
would not wish to recall that life, unless it could be 
spent in greater usefulness to you and to others. I 
trust, through the merc}^ of that Saviour who died 
for a fallen world, that I shall be prepared cheerfully, 
whenever He shall see fit to call me hence, to 
resign my spirit into the hands of that God who 
gave it. * 

This congregation is the only one I have had the 
charge of since my ordination. I did not hesitate 
for a moment to give a negative reply to all invita- 
tions from other sources in the Church, and from 
seats of learning — offering higher pecuniary advan- 
tages. I came not to seek your wealth — a minister, 
who is devoted to his duties, has no time to lay up 
treasures of earth. He is commanded to use hospi- 
tality to the household of faith, and more especially 
to his brethren in the ministry. He is liable to 
daily calls on his income, for he must become the 
almoner of the poor, and listen to the petitions of 
the stranger — in this way, he is relieved of much 
that he receives. * "^ * * * * 

The Days that are Past. 347 

In youth and inexperience, I be^un my early 
labors in the South, and here they will, in all human 
probability, terminate. I came among you with a 
constitution unacclimated, and remained with you 
through seasons when the pestilence w^as making 
fearful devastation among our people, especially 
among the poor strangers that were within our gates. 
In my performance of duty to them during these 
seasons of suffering, of sorrow% and of death, you 
will, I am convinced, exempt me from the charge 
of unfaithfulness. 

I have been so fully identified with my people, 
that my mind recognizes no other home but this; 
for the home of my youth has become to me the 
house of the stranger. 

I have spent with you. a long life of anxious labor 
and of pleasant duty. My people, now to the fourth 
generation, have ever lived with me in peace and 
love ; they have confided in me as a friend, a Pastor, 
and a father — and so may it be until this connec- 
tion is severed by the hand of death — and not even 
then severed forever. There is a chain which 
reaches from earth to heaven, and is fastened to the 
throne of God. Our holy religion gives to the 
Christian heart assurances of recognition, of re- 
union, of immortality, and of bliss at God's right hand 
forever, where all we have lost on earth, will be re- 
stored to us agani ; where the mind will be enlarged, 
the heart purified, and our capacity for enjoyment 
adapted to the angelic state. * * * * 

The sermon closed with an earnest appeal to his 
beloved flock. 

could my voice only penetrate the hearts of all 
my hearers — could they be induced with prayer 
and labor to aid me in all the benevolent institu- 

848 John BacJiman. 

tions of the Church, and t() let one united voice go 
up to heaven, *' We will serve the Lord." — then might 
we look for the outpouring of the Spirit of God, for 
the hlessing of heaven, and the salvation of many 

It has been said, 

"We must add the weight of J)r. Baoliman's 
character, and the simplicity of his affections, to 
the few of his sermons that are preserved to us» 
in order to understand the charm and power of 
his appeals. One who sat for years under his 
ministry said: 'His sermons always moved me.' 
I have been told tliat often at meetings of Synod in 
tlie country, he preached without manuscript with 
powerful effect. His voice was strong and sweet, and 
his style and manner, were indescribably earnest. 

" He excelled as a pastor, and this not because he 
studied the pastoral art; but because he loved his 
people and really trusted God. Genial, observant, 
of vast and varied knowledge and experience, 
among those whom he had known from babyhood, 
and on whose life, even their schooling and their 
business, he had exercised much influence, in ardent 
sympathy with their institutions and manner of 
thought, and keenly appreciative of their daily 
affection, it is no wonder he was beloved as well as 
admired. All his words seemed to his people wise, 
l^^verything he did w^as recounted. They were 
proud of his fame. They were honored by his con- 
fidence. Even pain for a moment ceased at tlie sound, 
of his voice. His tenderness comforted. His prayer 
seemed more certain to be answered. And tlie com- 
fortable words of Holy Scripture seemed to get 
authority from his kind eye and beloved lips. 

*' Dr. Bachman's power lay not in what he said or 
did, not in his manner, but in himself. It was the 

The Book of Worship. 849 

•inaii gave the sermon force, and to his kind words a 
healing virtue. In literar}- circles, in public places, 
at a country house, in Synod, he was the centre. It 
is easy to see, as we read the dry reports of Synods, 
how inurdi he was respected, how proud all were of 
him, how fearful of offending him. He must pre- 
side at every Synodical Communion, he must take 
part in every ordination, and what he and his 
church are doing, was spoken of, as if it were every- 
body's pride. Lofty in principle, pure of heart, 
zealous, tender, and simple as a child in his trust in 
God, John Bach man, by his own fidelity, has made 
the past and the future of St. John's congrega- 

We have seen, that in his early ministry in a 
Southern field, he was among the pioneers ot the 
Lutheran Church. The battle for the revival of the 
doctrinal basis of the Lutheran Church had then 
scarcely begun. He preached few doctrinal ser- 
mons. Dr. Bach man's spirit was, eminently pro- 
gressive. This is apparent, when we remember the 
part he took in the formation of the Southern Gene- 
ral Synod of to-day, whose unmistakable tendency 
from its infancy was toward confessional, historical 

We can never forget his eager desire for the pub- 
lication of the Southern Book of Worship — a ritual 
thoroughly Lutheran in character. We remember 
his joy when his congregation willingly adopted the 
new book, in place of the old New York " Hymns 
and Liturgy." Many can recall, his earnest, per- 

*City of Charleston Year Book, Edward T. Horn, D. D. 

350 John Bachman. 

suasive words, recommending its adoption by the 
whole Southern Church. 

In his old age, perhaps, the strongest desire of his 
heart, was that all English-speaking Lutherans 
should have a Common Service. We find him sug- 
gesting and urging the same, and when prevented 
by age and feebleness from attending the General 
Synod that met at Winchester, Va., in 1870, ex- 
pressing to his brethren, by letter, the burden of his 
heart's desire — uniformity in Books of Worship — in 
other words, a Common Service for the whole 

The Pastor of St. John's was broad in his Christian 
charity. Dr. Summers records : " When in Eng- 
land, Dr. Bachman visited the Oxford divines, 
Pusey, Newman, and others, and, on his return, 
spoke of them as learned, well-meaning, though 
misguided men." 

His Lutheranism was sturdy and uncompromis- 
ing. The anxious bench, etc., found no favor in his 
eyes. On one occasion wlien a revival of religion 
stirred tlie hearts of the community of Charleston, 
Dr. Bachman decided to open his Church for a short, 
daily . service. He asked no assistance from his 
brother ministers. The services were continued for 
a week ; the attendance was large; but there was no 
undue excitement. Before the close of the week, a 
few over-zealous members suggested a mourner's 
bcncJi, but Dr. Bachman declined to comply, on the 
ground that such an institution would not be in ac- 
cordance with Lutheran teaching and usage, whicli 

Newberry College. 351 

relied on the Sacrament of Baptism, catechetical in- 
struction, the rite of Confirmation and the Holy 
Communion as all-sufficient. He mildly suggested 
that if his friends considered a difi'erent mode of ad- 
ministration absolutely necessary, they must seek 
it in another communion. A few, following his 
suggestion, united with another denomination, where 
the "anxious bench" was in use. When the hus- 
band of a valued member of his congregation, who 
had not been baptized in his infancy, desired to re- 
ceive at his hands baptism by immersion, saying 
that the mode by sprinkling did not meet his views, 
Dr. Bachman, on the same ground, advised him to 
unite with the Baptists — which he did ; but often 
accompanied his wife to the Lutheran Church. 

From 1858 to 1861, we find many letters in the 
handwriting of Dr. Bachman addressed to J. A. 
Brown, D. D., of Reading, Pa. 

In 1858, Theophilus Stork, D. D., was elected 
President of Ne^v berry College, S. C, and J. A. 
Brown, D. D., Professor of Theology. Both responded 
favorably and were duly installed in 1859, 

The Inaugural Addresses of the President and the 
Professor of Theology were greatly admired, and 
ordered by Synod to be published. 

To Dr. Brown : 

December 23rd, 1859. 

" I corrected, last evening, the revised sheets of 
your Address, which I consider very excellent, and 

852 John Bach man. 

creditable to your learning and abilities. I regret 
much that Dr. Stork would not consent to have his 

Cannot you come for a week to see us all ? It 
would be most gratifying to me and my family. I 
should like to have the College and the Professors 
represented here, and it would be a benefit to our 

Affectionate remembrance to Mrs. B. and the 
children. * * * * 

Charleston, January, 1860. 

I returned, last evening, from a short excursion 
into the country, where the Doctor supposed I would 
find better physic than the nostrums in his shop. 
The change has benefited me, and I have no longer 
fevers at night, and only occasional paroxysms of 

I found your obliging letter waiting for me. I feel 
sensibly your willingness to come to my assistance 
during my indisposition ; but I am once more able, 
as far as poor preaching is concerned, to attend to 
my own duties. I shall have my hands full on 
Sunday next (Communion day). The College lies 
heaviest on my mind. I have not, however, the 
slightest idea of failure — we must all work and 
hope. I am willing even to enter the field myself. 

For months past I have been greatly troubled 
about our political embarrassments. 

In other days I was a Union man. I am so still ; 
hut I go with those who insist on the rights guaran- 
teed to us by the Co)idUution. Recently, several con- 
servative politicians have visited Charleston. I have 
not met with them, for I avoid caucuses ; but T hear 
that they feel convinced that there will be no dis- 
solution of the Union — I trust that it may be so. I 

Newberry College. 353 

have an abiding faith in that kind Providence that 
governs nations, as well as individuals. 

When you can be spared to come and help us to 
procure funds, send me a line, and I shall meet you 
at the station. * * * 

The College flourished. $i,400 were subscribed 
for scholarships. Dr. Bach man wrote rejoicingly, 
'•'students are still flocking in." 

In 18G0, Dr. Stork resigned the Presidency of 
Newberry College, and Dr. Brown was elected his 
successor. In 1861, Dr. Brown also resigned. 


The Beginning of the War. 

Colored congregation — iiis defence — old plenty — boston 


IN 1860, Dr. Bachman's pastorate in Charleston 
had extended over forty-five years, and the con- 
gregation under his charge was at the zenith of its 

The Minutes for that year record 560 communi- 
cants — 370 white and 190 black. 

Sunday-school for the whites : Teachers, 20 ; 
pupils, 120. 

For the blacks : Teachers, 32 ; pupils, 150. 

The two-story lecture-room, huilt in 1831, was 
especially adapted for the use of two schools. The 
upper story was occupied by the white school, and 
the hasement by the colored. 

Dr. Bachman's laborious and successful work 
among the negroes of his adopted city has been, 
perhaps, overlooked or overshadowed by his achieve- 
ments in other directions. 

In this field his power as an organizer, was 

Work for the Colored People. 355 

brought into fall pla3^ He selected his " Leaders " 
from the most intelligent and reliable of those 
whom he had carefully instructed — some of these 
were freedmen. It was the duty of the leaders to 
visit the sick and report to the Pastor such cases as 
needed his special care. They generally performed 
also the burial services for the dead of their own 
race. The leaders settled all disputes; but if their 
decision was not accepted, the case was brought 
before the Pastor. On the appointed evening, the 
Pastor's study was the little Court-room, and he the 
Judge supreme. His quick apprehension of the 
points at issue, and his wise and humane decisions, 
gave him a singular power over the simple minds 
and hearts of the negro, and his decisions were 
reverently received as just and final. Their grateful 
devotion to him for his unwearied care and kind- 
ness was almost unbounded. 

In 1816, at his request, the North Gallery of St. 
John's Church was appropriated to his colored flock. 

Never was there a more orderly congregation. On 
Communion Sundays the whites received the Sacra- 
ment first, and then the blacks. The physical labor 
of administering to such numbers at length became 
so great and exhausting to his strength, that the 
Vestry suggested that the Church should be closed 
for the whites on the afternoons of Communion 
Sundays, in order that he might devote these after- 
noons entirely to his colored congregation. 

Some of the whites were present on these occa- 
sions. At the request of the leader.s the services of 

356 John Bachmmi. 

the organist were dispensed with, and the band^ 
standing in the front aisle, led the singing. There 
was no silent tongue in the congregation — no bash- 
ful hesitancy, the full voices drowning the cracked 
notes of the older members. A singular and beau- 
tiful custom prevailed among these simple worship- 
pers — they reverently bowed after receiving the 
consecrated bread and wine from the hand of the 
Minister — doubtless in grateful acknowledgment of 
the Saviour's gift of Himself 

Born and educated while New York Avas still a 
slave-holding State; removing to the South in 
early manhood, and faithfully laboring there for the 
temporal and spiritual advancement of the negro, it 
was not strange that he should not have been in sym- 
pathy with the pronounced abolitionist. Lydia, his 
father's slave, in accordance with her own desire had 
followed him to Charleston, and nursed his children. 
When slavery was abolished in the State of New 
York, he tells us, he offered her freedom ; but she 
preferred to remain in his service. Her two sons he 
apprenticed to trades that they might earn their own 

When the property of Mrs. Bachman's mother, 
Mrs. Martin, was divided among her children, the 
slaves, according to custom, selected their owners in 
the family. One of these, Plenty, entreated Dr. 
Bachman to take him. Now Plenty, although 
honest and industrious when sober, sometimes in- 
dulged too freely in whiskey. He urged; " Tek me 
Massa Bachman. Pll plant and tek good ca' ob de 

(Jld PlniUj, 357 

ga'den." " Yes, Plenty," said the Doctor, " I don't 
doubt that you will do your best for us when you 
are sober ; but when ^'ou are getting over a spree, 
you will be likely to cut up your plants faster than 
you raised them." Plenty still promised and plead- 
ed, and finally was installed as head gardener. Alas 
for human strength! With better intentions, perhaps, 
than moved the breast of the renowned *' Tam O' 
Shanter," poor Plenty occasionally had a sad fall, 
succeeded by renewed promises of amendment. 
Thus the years rolled on and the habit strengthened, 
until, at length, the poor old fellow writhed under a 
geiuiine attack of Mania a potu. 

On his recovery, he came rushing into the Doctor's 
study as if fiends were pursuing him. Trembling, 
he stammered out, ' Massa Bachman, Plenty nebber, 
nebber drink one drap moe" " Ah, Plenty, I wish 
that 1 could believe that !" Then the poor old man, 
with many tears, graphically described what he call- 
ed " me dreamJ' The devil, he asserted, had appeared 
to him — he knew him " by de horns and de tail," 
and told him that "drunken ole Plenty was his 
sure, and he would put him in de big fire in de bad 
place." His faithful Father Confessor, further deep- 
ened these wholesome fears by quoting St. Paul's 
words, " Neither idolaters nor dntnkards shall inherit 
the kingdom of God.^^ vShaking with fear, he cried 
out, " De debbil nebber, nebber shal git ole Plenty." 

Perhaps, after all his terrors and his deep peni- 
tence, an angel whispered words of hope and peace 
to the terror-stricken soul. He never could be 

358 John Bachmaii. 

brought to believe his master's version of '* de 
dream," viz, that the frightful vision was the effect 
of drink. At any rate, we feel assured that Plenty 
disappointed the expectations of his "majesty with 
horns." From that day the old negro sacredly 
kept his promise to God, for he drank henceforth 
nothing stronger than coffee, or a mild decoction 
from the sassafras root, sweetened with molasses, a 
favorite drink in those days, called " sassafras beer." 
Dr. Bachman's well cultivated vegetable garden 
gave abundant proof of old Plenty's faithfulness; 
and when he died years later, in great peace, due 
honors were paid to his memory, by " de witefamhj" 
as he called them, and by his own race. 

As early as 1837, we find Dr. Bachman, justly 
pained by the misrepresentations of a part of the 
Lutheran Church in the North. 

To Rev. J. D. 

I Imve heard with regret of your remarks before 
the Hartvvick JSynod, with re^'ard to your Southern 
brethren. That part of your Constitution, that ex- 
cludes the slave-holder from your communion, has 
been sent to me; and as you have no slave-holders 
with you. it would appear that you have travelled 
out of the way to denounce the acts of your breth- 
ren that are far removed. 

Having always been an advocate for unrestrained 
freedom of thought as well as liberty of speech, I 
felt no disposition to prevent you from expressing 
your honest convictions. As your charges, even if 
true, could not operate unfavorably to my useful- 

Dejence against Calumny. 359 

ness in this community — beyond which 1 am little 
known ; and, as no defence of mine would be likely 
to be of any avail, T was content to sit quietly under 
the imputations, which a brother of my own faith 
had seen fit to cast upon me, believing that the prov- 
idence of God would not permit His Church to sus- 
tain an injurv from the imperfections of its min- 
isters. * " * * ^ -X- 

I have lately been held up in bold relief as *' one 
who luxuriated from the sweat and blood of the 
slave." My wife brought into my family four of 
her domestics, who were attached to her from in- 
fancy ; they are her private property, are still with 
us, and are, without exception, communicants of the 
Church. * * * * 

I am fully sensible that you believed what, under 
excited feelings, you have published. The charge 
of cruelty and luxury, I think, ought to have been 
withheld, as I hope that I do not indulge in either. 
I have labored hard, and I hope not without suc- 
cess, to build up our Church in the Southern States. 
I preach three times every Sunday, and once in the 
week. I attend to two Sunday-schools and a Bible- 
class. My people, at least, will neither accuse me of 
idleness, nor luxury. 

In Dr. Bachman's Sy nodical address, in 1845, he 
reports to the Synod of South Carolina, as follows : 

An application was recently made to me by Bos- 
ton Drayton, a colored member of the English 
Lutheran Church of Charleston (St. John's), for 
permission to go to Africa as a missionary of our 
Church. He had, for some time, been an efficient 
leader among the colored peo})le of said congrega- 
"tion. His natural talents were respectable, and his 
educr-i.tion considerably above that of persons of his- 

860 John Bachman. 

class. I had no reason to doubt of his piety. The 
vessel in which he was to sail, was to leave before 
the meeting of the Synod. I felt it my duty, as^ 
President of the Synod, to give him such credentials 
as would render him useful among the benighted 
nations in the land of his forefathers. How far this 
mission, vokmtarih' undertaken by an individual, 
and supported, in a great measure, by the people of 
his own color, will be productive of good, must be 
left to Him who is the ruler of nations, and who is 
able to convert even the most untoward events into 
the instruments of great and abiding mercy. We 
are greatly indebted to the Kev. Benj. Kurtz, and to 
several of our Northern friends, especially to the 
former, for their kindness to this young and inex- 
perienced missionary, and for their advice and pecu- 
niary aid. 

Dr. Morris tells us * : 

" Bishop Payne (colored), now of the Methodist 
Church, was reared a Lutheran by Dr. Bachman, of 
Charleston, and studied for awhile at Gettysburg; 
but there was no field among us, and he was advised 
to go to the Methodists, among whom he has become 
quite distinguished." 

We find many letters from and with regard to 
Rev. Jehu Jones, also from Dr. Bach man's colored 
congregation. He had been a very useful man in 
his Church as* a leader, and might have been so as a 
preacher at home, where the negro character and 
pecularities were understood ; but he desired to go 
North. Pie went and made an etiort to raise a con- 
gregation in Philadelphia, but failed. Dr. Morris 

* Fifty years in the Lutheran Miuistry. 

Christian Patriotism. 361. 

says " He was rather notorious there." In his letters 
he entreats to be permitted to return to Charleston, 
and that Dr. Bachman would get up a petition for 
the same — tliis was done, but without success. 

We lose sight of Rev. Jehu Jones; he probably 
left the ministry. 

November, 1860, Dr. Bachman preached a sermon 

The Duty of a Christian to his Countri/. 

One who was present on the occasion wrote : 

" Dr. Bachman, of course, avoided the political 
questions of the day as much as possible. At a time 
when Secession seemed inevitable he enjoined upon 
his people firmness, decision and moderation. He 
gave excellent advice to the young men, and ad- 
dressed our colored brethren also. The appeal was 
solemn, impressive and eloquent. The day was 
bright and beautiful ; the congregation unusually 
large, and, by a singular coincidence, the Citadel 
Cadets were present. I never saw a more interested 
or attentive congregation." 

Fragments of this sermon have been preserved. 
We give a few extracts : 

Psalm cxxxvii : 5 — If I forget tJia, O Jerusalem ! 

Brethren, I am about to address you on the " Love 
of Country," which, next to the love of God, is the 
most sacred duty that the God of nations has en- 
joined upon man. * * * 

In spite of the prostitution of the venerable name 
of patriotism, there is and ever shall be, a Christian 

862 Jofm Bachman. 

patriotism — a great S3^stem of duties whicli man 
owes to his home, his people and his State, etc. 

If our rights had been protected in tlie Union, wo 
would not desire a political change — the sound is, 
even at this moment, mournful to my mind. I was 
born but two years after the Union and may yet 
outlive it. Our fore-fathers in Convention entered 
into a solemn compact for mutual defence and pro- 
tection. On th€ part of the majority, these pledges 
have been violated, and a higher law than the Con- 
stitution substituted. 

According to the principles of our Constitution, 
the impending Secession should be unattended by a 
resort to arms. It is better, like Abraham and Lot, 
to separate when we can no longer live together in 
peace. Our State is preparing for a peaceful sepa- 
ration. I shall, as in duty bound, until then, pray 
for the President of the United States, and for God's 
blessing on the deliberations of Congress. * * 

Young men, let me offer you a few words of 
fatherly advice. We are linked together for peace 
or war ; for plenty or want ; for glory or shame. I 
have not a shadow of doubt of your courage ; I 
would place my life in your hands in the midst of a 
host of enemies. — But an}' act of rashness on our 
part, would place us in the wrong. xVct not witliout 
authority. Remember courage consists in obedience 
and prudence, as well as loyalty and firmness. 
Above all, act only in the fear and love of God. 

Ever bear in mind that among the duties you 
owx^ to your country, is your daily good example. 
In the political meetings that you may be called 
upon to attend, you are not to indulge in the bowl 
of intemperance, in angry and revengeful passions, 
or neglect of the duties you owe to your own dear 
families. We feel and know that our cause is just 
and righteous ; but political changes are often times 

The Beginning of the War. 363 

of licentiousness and immorality. How awful 
would be the visitations of heaven, if our youth 
should become corrupt and careless ! 

When the people of South Carolina in Convention, 
December, 1860, passed the Ordinance of Secession^ 
they selected Dr. Bachman to offer the prayer at the 

With the majority of the South he still cherished 
the hope of a peaceful separation — vain hope. 

The tide of war soon flooded the land, bringing to 
the South poverty and desolation, tears and death. 
Brave and tender-hearted as a " Soldier of the 
Cross," the Pastor of St. John's strove to perform his 

In the words of another : 

" Dr. Bachman found employment in the hos- 
pitals, but did not intermit his care of the scattered 
flock. The legends tell of the welcome visit of the 
beloved pastor to close the eyes of an aged saint at 
Columbia, or in the little church in that city to con- 
firm some of his young people; of a doubly solemn 
Confirmation and administration of the Holy Sup- 
per in an upper room at SpartanDurg; of Baptism 
under a great cak at Mar's Bluff."* 


To Edmund Ruffin, Esq., of Virginia, two of 
whose sons liad been killed in battle. 

Charleston, Nov. 22nd, 1862. 

My Dear Friend : Yours of the 17th instant was 
received this morning ; although it is Saturday — my 
most busy day, I must answer it at once, lest I 

^Charleston Year Book, Edward T. Horn, D. D. 

364 John Bachman. 

should, by incessant calls, be prevented from at- 
tending, as early as I desire, to this duty and sad 

Although the sympathy of your friend cannot 
benefit you, yet it will show you that you are re- 
membered with respect and veneration, and that he 
feels your misfortunes as a blow on his own heart. 
I pray God to mitigate your sufferings and to bring 
back peace and prosperity to our distracted and 
bleeding country. * * * 

My family have been in Columbia all the Sum- 
mer. M}^ daughters would long since have re- 
turned home to keep house for me ; but I am un- 
willing to have them leave their mother, whose 
health is feeble and unequal to the sole charge of 
my four little granddaughters. My grandson, 
John Bachman (Haskell) joined a military company 
during the vacation, and was doing " guard duty " 
on the city wharves to protect the supplies, etc.. 
daily sent to Fort Sumter. The exposure proved to 
be too great for his youth — sixteen years. On his 
return to College he was seized with what was sup- 
posed to be rheumatism, but which proved to bo a 
disease of the hip-joint, which we fear is incurable. 
We sent him to the Springs in Florida ; but he has 
returned not much improved. He is more cheerful 
however, and is able to walk a little on crutches. 

Nine-tenths of my congregation have removed 
their families into various parts of the country, and 
the men are in the army. I inquired of my own 
mind what more I was capable of doing at my 
advanced period of life — seventy -three years. 1 
decided to begin my labors in the hospitals of 
Charleston. During this Summer I have spent seven 
hours daily among the sick and wounded. I became 
an agent for receiving and distributing funds, food, 
etc., contributed for the support of the hospitals. 

In Virginia. 365 

I am personally interested in the A.rmy of Vir- 
ginia. I signified my willingness to receive contri- 
butions for the hospitals there, and finally resolved 
to take on the car-load of provisions and clothing that 
I had collected. I left for Virginia, accompanied 
by two ladies who were in search of a wounded 
son and a nephew. My cargo was perishable, and 
we hurried on to Staunton. Here, my cargo was 
distributed to the various hospitals between that 
point and Winchester. 

I inquired for you in Richmond, but no one could 
tell me exactly where you were to be found, and we 
were in haste. My companions were hurrying on 
to find their wounded relatives. One, we learned, had 
died on the battle-field, of the other there is hope of 
recovery. I was equally hurried on my return, and 
regretted that I could not stop to find you. 

I saw my son AVilliam, who commands the German 
Artillery of Charleston, and has passed unscathed 
through nearly all the terrible battles fought in 
Virginia. Amid the blood and carnage around him, 
he seems to have led a charmed life. He has been 
away from us for eighteen months, and amid our 
anxieties for his safety, I am cheered with the be- 
lief that my beloved son is discharging his dut}^ to 
his country. His wife has engaged the looms and 
spinning wheels of the sand-hillers around Columbia, 
and she has a loom of her own, and is often at the 
fly shuttle herself. 

One of my son's lieutenants, Rudolph Siegling, 
Avas struck by the fragments of a shell and pro- 
nounced mortally wounded. The army was ordered 
to cross the Potomac into Maryland ; my son re- 
mained that night with his wounded lieutenant, and, 
before joining his command, ordered a coffin to be 
made for him. Siegling has however, almost mirac- 
ulously recovered ; he was brought home, and I 

oOO John Bachman. 

!saw him to-day on crutches walking ahout. The 
young man is both brave and talented. He is one 
of the few men who has read his own obituary. * * 
My friend, the Rev. J. B. Davis of Staunton, Vir- 
ginia, is with me. Two days hence he is to take on 
for me another car-load of army supplies, then I 
.shall be alone again, and it would be a charity for 
you to come and keep my company — for here I am, 
'' Monarcli of all T survey " — come to me. 

Dr. Bachman, in all his letters of this date, alludes 
to the prolonged illness of his grandson, John JFas- 
kell, which resulted in lameness for life. During 
these years of extreme suffering, the bond of affec- 
tion between himself and grandson was daily more 
firmly riveted. His quick eye saw that the soul, as 
well as the body of the young sufferer, needed to be 
healed, ^hmy times during the day he passed 
through the little gate that led from his vegetable 
garden into his son-in-law's yard. Eagerly the sick 
boy watched for his coming. " No one,'' he said 
afterwards, '' was ever able to draw me out of my- 
self and my sufferings, as grandfather did." 

During the Spring of 18G2, the hospitals in 
( 'harle.ston, were crowded to overflowing. Measles 
had broken out among the soldiers on the coast. 
One day Dr. Bachman announced to his family, that 
on his rounds in the hospitals he had found two 
young men from the up-country, whose parents 
were not unknown to him, ill with measles. He had 
promised that, if possible, the}^ should be nursed in 
his own home. At the moment lie had not remem- 
bered his little grandchildren. In this dilemma, 

St, John's Closed. 367 

Mrs. Bachmaii suggested that tlie basement '■ paint- 
ing-room " should be used as a chamber. In this 
room Audubon had painted many of the " Birds of 
North America," and here the stuffed specimens of 
animals liad been kept, while Dr. Bachman wrote 
the letter-]:)ress of the Quadrupeds of North America. 
The specimens liad long since been presented to the 
Charleston Museum. The room was empty and 
the simple preparations for the comfort of the sick 
were soon made. 

With careful nursing both the young men recov- 
ered, and the children did not contract tlie measles. 

The Banks of Charleston were, for safety, removed 
from the city. St. John's Church, had been closed 
for many months, k shell had passed through the 
building and injured the organ ; and some of the 
grave-stones were mutilated. One of the Vestry, Mr. 
Frederick C. Blum, remained at his Pastor's side, 
and took charge of the churcli edifice and the 

On the 12th of May, Dr. Bachman accompanied 
his family to Columbia. Leaving the latter in the 
hospitable home of Dr. Edward Fisher, he returned 
to his post of duty in Charleston. 

He paid occasional visits to Columbia, and fre- 
quently remained over Sunday preaching in Eben- 
ezer Church, Columbia, or at some point near by. 

In one of his daily letters to his family he gave a 
little episode. 

Seated alone in the dusk of the evening, the street 
door bell rang, and his trusty old servant, Tony,. 

368 John Bachman. 

announced that a dozen or more old men and 
women — some with babies in their arms — asked to 
see " the Minister." He went out to them — they 
wanted a night's lodging. They were the fathers 
and wives of soldiers on duty on some of the Islands 
near Charleston. The train that brought them to 
the city had been delayed, and when they reached 
the wharf, to their dismay, the last Island boat had 
already started. The tired company were pro- 
visioned, but had not money enough to pay for a 
night's lodging in the city. Quick at expedients, 
Dr. Bachman took them all in, gave the women with 
babies the only comfortable chamber in his house — 
his own — and the rest were easily accommodated. 
The Pastor evening and morning had pra^'ers witli 
the pilgrims, and finally saw them safely on the 
deck of the little Island steamboat. 

On the 3rd of July, he was expected in Columbia, 
and his grandchildren stood watching at the gate for 
his arrival. They had been questioning if the ortho- 
dox Fourth of July melon would appear for dessert 
next day. It was early for melons and the prices 
were exorbitant. The elders, therefore, bade the 
children to remember the cost of the coveted fruit, 
and to try to be content without it. When their 
grandfather drove up to the door, there, in the bot- 
tom of the buggy, lay a great ripe watermelon. He 
had met a countryman selling melons ; the man 
recognized him as his entertainer in Charleston, 
and presented him with one of his finest. The 
children shouted with delight ! " Remember," said 

In the Hospitals. 360 

grandfather, " this is bread cast upon tJie waters that 
has returned to us." " How nice," cried little Minnie, 
"that it came back to us a watermelon, and not bread.'' 

In the Spring of 1863, yielding to the solicitations 
of his family, he permitted them to cheer his soli- 
tude in Charleston, from May until July. One day 
in July, a fragment of a shell passed over his garden 
and lodged in an out-building near by. Forthwith 
h6 decided that his family should again take refuge 
with his friends in Columbia. 

In August, after a laborious day in the hos- 
jjitals, he was found before the door of one of 
his parishioners, lying insensible in his buggy — 
perhaps his sagacious old horse had stopped there. 
He was carried into the house, and tenderly cared 
for. In haste a physician was sunnnoned, and a 
telegram sent to Columbia. Mrs, Bach man gathered 
strength to accompany his daughters to Charleston. 
Soon he recovered sufficiently to be removed to Co- 
lumbia. There he rallied quickly, and, in a few 
weeks, was again in Charleston, ministering to the 
sick and dying. 

In December of this year, we find him again, for a 
brief season, with his family in Columbia, resting 
from arduous labors and rejoicing in the happiness 
of his little grandchildren. As usual, at the children's 
festival, Christmas verses were prepared for the oc- 
casion by Mrs. Bachman : 

" Old Santa Clans, a merry wiglit, 
Is far away in sorry plight, 
Compelled to stay in Yankee land, 
Because his wares are contraband ; 

370 . John Backman. 

He tried to run the vile blockade, 
And many desp'rate efforts made, 
But all in vain, and now he stands, 
With down-cast eyes and empty hands. 
A letter then he thinks he'll write, 
And send it to his friends to-night. 
To try their little hearts to cheer, 
With Jiope for better times next i/ear.^^ 

The letter from the Saint was dated : 

Skedaddle-town, Dec. 25th, 1862. 

•' I'm very sad my children dear ! 
And on this slieet drop many a tear." 

The childrens' Saint however, showed his good 

*' I've ask'd my friend, a fairy sprite. 
To cater for you all to-night ; 
She's gentle] active, good and kind. 
And will, to please you, be inclined— 
I hear that she's been looking round. 
And many little things has found. 
Some toys, I think, and nick-nacks, too. 
And cakes and sweet things not a few. 
Be merry then, my children dear, 
Yov Christmas comes hat once a year ; 
And though you miss your foreign toys, 
YoiVve friends and more substanticd }oys.^' 

Great pains and ingenuity had been exercised to 
provide these trifles. Besides cloth-dolls, etc., a 
cathedral, with a steeple made of pop-corn, excited 
the wonder and admiration of the children. 

"I'll tell you what the fairy said, 
'Twas made of moonshine in a night, 
And though it looks so pure and white. 
Is bound with spiders' gluey webs. 
Drawn out in slender subtle threads." 

Christwas. 371 

Addressed to Eva 

*' Do you believe this fairy tale ? 
Or must you touch the fabric frail ? 
Take care ! you know you're rather rough, 
And fairy-work is never tough." 

All were remembered, even the dog, Mac, was 
bountifully provided with hoe-cake. 

"But where is Mac? Pray don't forget 
Your Uncle Willie's darluicf pet, 
But save for him, a right good slice 
Of hoe-cake and of edl that's nice." 

The home-loving Pastor of 8t. John's took part 
w^ith joy in tliis family festival and afterwards these 
simple rhymes were sadly recalled as the last com- 
posed by his wife for the amusement of his grand- 

In a few days he returned to his lonely labors in 

To Mrs. J. W. E. 

Charleston, Sept. 8th, 18G3. 

My dear, kind Eriend : I seldom go as far into 
the heart of the city as your residence. The Post- 
office and all the hospitals, except the Marine, hav- 
ing been removed up town. 

I trudge on foot and only go into the lower part 
-of the city when pressing duties urge, and therefore 
see less of your pleasant, hospitable home than I 
did in other and happier days. "^ * * I return 
home, mourning over our scattered people. But let 
us try to submit to our lot — ordered by a Wisu 
Providence, discharge our duty under all circum- 
.stances, and look to that Mighty Deliverer, who, out 
of seeming ill, is yet educing good. * ■«= * 

872 John Bachman. 

If I liad much to do, when you left me, you 
Avoukl pity me now, for my labors since then have 
more than doubled. I often receive from fifteen to 
twenty letters per day, and more than one-third 
require answers. Many of my people are in afflic- 
tion, and I cannot write them short letters. But 
somehow God prepares me for my burdens. * * "^^ 

I am glad that you are not here to listen to this 
terrific bombardment. •• '^' * I shall not murmur — 
even if Charleston falls. For the liberties of my 
country, I would cheerfully lay down even my life. 
Love to all around you. 

Your devoted friend and Pastor, J. B. 


During the War. 

Christmas, 18()o — the children's festival — death of his 
avife — visit to concord — letters — charleston evacuated 
— he leaves for columbia — encounters the federal 


CHRISTMAS Eve, 1863, Dr. Bachman joined his 
famih^ in Columbia. 

On Christmas day the Churches were opened as 
usual. Sad-eyed women and old men listened gladly 
to the Gospel appointed for the day — the message 
of ^^ good tidings of greed joy y But a heavy weight 
was resting on Southern hearts and homes, and only 
the children exchanged the time-honored greeting, 
'' Merry Cliristmas." 

In the home, a little table was spread, adorned 
with the bright berries from the woods, on which 
was placed the few home-made gifts prepared by 
weary hands. We had urged Mrs. Bachman to 
write her usual ihymes for the cliildren, but she 
could not be induced to do so. 

W^e found later her last written thoughts, traced 
witli a verv feeble hand. 

374 John Bach nan. 

Mcm's Only Iiefage. 

Intiriii, desponding and dismayed, 

My faith east do\vn, my hope grown dim, 
1 seek for light ; bnt huiiian aid 

Can shed no light on doubts within. 
Around my path dark shadows fall, 

And gloomy visions crowd my way, 
AVhile clouds, like a funereal pall, 

Obscure the cheerful light of day. 

When foes invade, and dread alarms 

Are pressing sore on ev'ry side, 
E'en life has nearly lost its charms 

As war rolls on its crimson tide. 
Where shall I flee? To whom apply 

Or look for help ? To God alone ! 
For He will hear my humble cry. 

And raise )ne to His heav'nly throne. 

God's promises were freely giv'n 

To me, as to the saints of old. 
Then, Miiy should I by doubts be driv'n, 

Or let my faith and'hojje grow cold? 
( )h teach liie. Lord, to watch and pray 

For light and comfort from above; 
To ask for faith's illuming ray, 

To fill me with a Saviour's love. 

This can alone the gloom dispel. 

Which darkens life at this sacl hour, 
And break the with'ring dreary spell, 

Which bends me down with magic pow'r. 
I n ecstacy of faith and love, 

All gloom and doubt shall flee away, 
And angels welcome me above 

To realms of everlasting day. M. B. 

The day after Christmas, Sunday, Dr. Bachniau 
was expected to preach in ('ohiin])ia, at Ebenezer 

Soon after the dawn of da}', he summoned a 
daughter to his chamber, saying her mother had 
been ill during the night. Without disturbing the 

Mrs. Bach man's Death. 375 

rest of the family, he brought the Physician. A 
simple remedy was ordered, Mrs. Bachman, in a 
clear voice, directing where the medicine could be 
found. A moment afterwards she intimated her 
impression that her death was at hand. Before we 
could take in tlie thought, 

" Angels JuuJ wrloomed Ik r aJtorc^ 
To realms of everlasting day.'''' 

Tuesday, December '27th, Dr. Rude performed 
the last sacred rites, and preached a sermon from 
the words of the Psalmist. " Predons In the sight of 
the Lord is the death of His saints.'' 

And was not she one of these? Her clieerful- 
ness, her gentleness, her kindness I shall never for- 
get. Precious to me is the remembrance of the 
hours spent with her. She carried within and about 
her so much of heaven — the impression was that 
you held converse with one, who had learned of 
Him — who walked with him. Our last conversa- 
tion with her — alas that it was the last ! was about 
the soul's condition after death. Firm was her con- 
viction that })ure, unspotted and made perfect, it 
should dwell with the Saviour. Now she knows, 
slie realizes the truth of the Apostle's declaration. 
*'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived the 
things, whicii God J t at h. prepared for them that love Hirn.^^ 

" Forget her not, serve as she served, love as she 
loved, live as she lived, that your life may be as 
useful, as devoted to duty, to Church, to (Jod — that 
your last hour may be as calm, and as peaceful as 
lier's — for without a ]>ang, without a struggle her 
t^|)irit past away, and her fellow-pilgrim knew not 
whether it were sleep or death. "^^ * * * 

376 JoJiii Bachman. 

For you, mourning husband, the goal is not far 
distant, and when the moment of your departure 
Cometh, blessed thought, we shall again say : 
^^ Precious in the sifjid of the Lord is the death of Jii>i 

In God's acre adjoining St. John's Church, Charles- 
ton, where her kindred slept, Dr. Bachman could 
not lay his beloved wife to rest, for the sounds of 
war, the bursting shell, forbade it. Under these cir- 
cumstances, the vestry of Ebenezer Church, Colum- 
bia met and tendered liim for his dead a spot in 
tlieir Church-yard, and there they reverently laid 
her body to await the resurrection morn. 

When Columbia was burned in 1865, Ebenezer 
Church was destroyed by fire ; but the resting-place 
of his dead was not disturbed. 

Now at her side sleeps his beloved grandsoii, tlie 
late Rev. John Bachman Haskell, Pastor of Ebenezer 

To HIS Daughters. 

Concord, N. C, Jan 1st, 1864. 

My dear Children — You will be glad to know- 
that I arrived here last evening safely, without de- 
tention or accident. The rivers were very much 
swollen. I stopped a night with Dr. Horlbeck at 
Winnsboro. It rained in torrents all next day. 
This morning I visited my poor sick and afflicted 
patient. She is still very beautiful, though she is 
fast losing ground. She clings to me — I shall de- 
vote four days to her. May God sanctify these 
labors to the good of her immortal soul. 

A Heavy Heart. 377 

I am surrounded by dear and sympathizing 
friends, who do every thing for me that lies in their 
power ; but my heart is sad and sohtary. I am 
using all my efforts to stem the torrent of a grief 
that unresisted would carry me almost to the brink 
of despair. 

Your dear mother a few nights previous to her 
death said to me, that you had repaid her a thou- 
sand times over for all her attentions to you in 
childhood. To me you have ever been most dutiful 
daughters; I could not wish for more attention, 
obedience and affection ; yet the remnant of my 
life must be solitary — it cannot be otherwise — I sub- 
mit to God's Avill. I shall endeavor to live for my 
children and for my duties. God may have some- 
thing more for me to do, if it be only to suffer. 

* >1; ;t< >ic ^ ;i< ^ 

Love to all, not forgetting the little folk, 

J. B. 
To Mrs. H. M. T. : 

Charleston, Feb. 17tli. 

My Dear Emma : On my return on Saturday 
night, after an absence of several weeks, I found 
your letter of the 2nd instant, together with about 
hfty others waiting for my attention. I shall notice 
your's among the first. 

I went to the country to visit the sick and to seek 
relief from my heav}^ trial — alas ! I have not re- 
covered from the shock ! My two homes in Charles- 
ton and Columbia, are almost insupportable to me, 
as I am every moment reminded of my irrepara- 
ble loss and desolate state. I know my duty well 
enough, audi am daily praying for strength to bear 
my loss with submission to Him, who orders all 
things in wisdom, I feel assured that He will not 
forsake me, but will be with me during the short 
time to which my lonely life is now restricted. 

878 JoJin JUichwian. 

I was absent from Charleston three weeks. In this 
time I returned once, and remained a day, in order 
to take a poor young friend to the Asylum in Co- 
lumbia — she liad consented to go, provided that 1 
went with her. I then hastened to Camden, Sumter, 
Cheraw, Society Hill, Darlington, Mar's Bluff, etc, 

I went in part to stir up the people in behalf of 
our hospitals, and, I think, have been successful. 
Next, I collected our people together in groups and 
administered to them the Communion — which was 
very comforting to all of us. 

I occupy and try to direct my mind by attending 
to many duties, visiting many persons with whom 
I had corresponded, but whom I had never seen. 
I was everywhere treated with unbounded and un- 
merited attention. 

1 have returned to Cliarleston in l)etter health ; 
every moment, however, reminds me of the penalty 
attached to a long life. I have buried my early 
friends, and am left like a jjelican in the wilderness — 
but I will not distress others with my griefs — 
'^Father, not my will, hut Thine he done" * * 

My daughter C. has been quite sick, and I have 
written to lier tliat if she desires it, I shall take her 
next week to her sister L 's, in Greenville. 

BoAvman has gone to St. Matthew's, and I am to 
preach in his Church on Sunday next. 

I have had staying with me, Mr. M 11, Mrs. 

S n. Miss H— ^^ — s ; but, alas ! I am no com- 
pany for them — my heart and my thoughts are 

I have amused myself in planting my garden. 1 
have spinach, salad, celery, turnips, carrots, ruta- 
baga, beets, etc., on table every day. I have planted 
Irish potatoes, peas, and most of the Spring vege- 

Smeltzer left me hist evening. Our hospitals 

Leaves Charleston. 379 

have greatly improved. I hear of small-pox, hut 
cannot find it. There have been a few deaths from 
congestive chills. I saw two cases 3^esterday ; these, 
I think, will recover. >k :;==!. * 

I yesterday, called on Mrs. M 11. I fear that 

our sad and bloody times affect her unfavorably. 

Where is your husband? 

Your affectionate friend and Pastor, .[. B. 

About this time his daughters and granddaughters 
joined him in Charleston. The following June» 
(1864), he united in marriage his third daughter, 
Jane, to his son-in-law, William PI Haskell. 

January 20tli, '(So, he wrote: 

Haskell's bank has removed its agency to (■olum- 
bia, and he has gone there ; when the Greenville 
road is reimired he expects to remove liis wife and 
children to his brother's in Abbeville, then C. and 
mvself will be quite alone here. * * All of us 
will trust in God. There is an overruling Provi- 
dence. God will not forsake us. * * Let us 
propitiate Him by faitli, repentance, obedience, and 
newness of life, and all will yet be well. We have 
nothing new here, except liarder times, Wood 
(pine) is |110 per cord, etc. 

In February, tlie absent members of liis family 
and congregation urged him to leave Charleston ; 
a son stationed on the coast, wrote, " the city will be 
evacuated. Seek an asylum elsewhere." The few 
members of the congregation compelled by circum- 
stances to remain in Charleston, added their earnesi 
entreaties, saying, " You cannot protect us, and it 
would be foolhardiness foi- vou, who made the 

380 John Bacliman. 

prayer at the " Secession Convention,'' to stay here." 
Unwilling to go, he lingered in the city. Febru- 
ary 13th, the last passenger train of cars was to 
leave. On the morning of the 12th, he called his 
daughter, C. L. B., the only member of his family in 
the city, and said to her, "I have yielded. You are 
not strong enough to be exposed to liardships and, 
perhaps, insults ; we shall leave to-morrow for 

The hospital stores were hastily distributed. At 
Xoon next day the train started. There was a dense 
crowd, but space was made in the aisle for Dr. Bach- 
man s seat — his valise. At day-break we reached 
Cash's Station, near Cheraw. It was bitterly cold- 
Dr. Bachman proposed to spend the night here 
and take the early morning's train for Columbia. 
His hostess, Mrs. Ellerbe, and her son (by a former 
marriage), Col. Cash, overruled their decision, and 
the worn-out guests were glad to remain longer in 
their hospitable home. 

A few days later Charleston was evacuated. The 
Confederates passed over the railroad, destroying 
the track behind them, and abandoning a car-load 
of ammunition, etc. 

On the morning of the third of March the news 
came that the Federals were seven miles from 
Cheraw, and that Columbia had been captured and 
burned. The negro men quickly disappeared, and 
Dr. Bachman was the only man to be found in the 
settlement. The car-load of ammunition had been 
left not far from a dwelling house occupied by 

Cruel Treatment. 381 

refugees from tlie coast. Fearing lest a match 
should be applied to the powder, he pressed the 
negro women into service. They cheerfully assisted. 
The car, happily, stood on a grade of tlie road where 
the. rails had not been torn up. A vigorous, united 
push and away it rolled to a safe distance. 

Eight of the most trustworthy negroes from the 
jjlantation had been secretly mounted on fine horses. 
Abundantly provisioned for a week, they were sent 
into a densely wooded swamp to take care of the 
horses, and guard the liidden provisions and trunks. 
(3nly a person thoroughly acquainted with that part 
of the country, could possibly have tracked them. 
The negroes were well pleased with the trust reposed 
in them. The approach of the Federal troops was 
announced by a terrific explosion — they had put a 
match to the car of ammunition. The negroes, 
under the impression that their hiding-place was 
being shelled, in hot haste mounted the horses and 
rode out. The fine horses were a great })rize, and, 
of course, were captured and eagerly mounted b}^ 
the Federals. 

Tender mercies are seldom exercised by an invad- 
ing army. Under the false impression that silver 
and gold were hidden ])y the family, and that the 
old man before them knew the spot where it w^as 
concealed, the soldiers roughly interrogated liim. 
Upon his denial of the same, they beat him and 
threw him on the ground. He told them they 
might shoot him, but begged that they would not 
" bruise and batter a defenceless, unarmed old man." 

382 John Bachman. 

With a heav}' sheathed sword one of them struck 
him several times on his left arm near the shoulder, 
causing great agony. The account of the cruel 
treatment received, has been preserved in his own 
words.* But why harrow the reader by further 
details ? We would rather bury the past, and spread 
over it the mantle of charity. 

Amidst pathetic scenes, the ludicrous side of the 
picture was not entirely wanting. When the trunks 
were to be sent into the woods, by close packing, one 
was left empty. Dr. Bachman had received a present 
of a pair of new shoes, which he needed greatly and 
valued in proportion. These he determined should 
not be sent awa}^ — yet if he wore them, they would 
most likely be taken from him. He decided ^to 
leave them in the otherwise empty, open trunk, 
beneath the tray. The trunk was kicked about by 
the soldiers, and, to his intense satisfaction, pro- 
nounced by them empty, and the new shoes were 

Early the next morning (Sunday, March 5th), Dr. 
Bachman held a short religious service with the 
famil3^ Soon after the large smoke-house near Mrs. 
Ellerbe's kitchen was set on fire by the soldiers. The 
providential direction of the wind and a supply of 
wet blankets, saved both the kitchen and the family 

While the smoke was wreathing over the smoke- 
house, a tree took fire, and our attention was at- 

* The Rise and Fall of the Contederate Government, by 
Jefferson Davis. 

Amomj Friends. 383 

tracted to a squirrel that jumped frantically from 
limb to limb. When the burning tree toppled over 
and fell, the mystery was solved. It was the moth- 
€.r-instinct — a nest was found containing the 
charred remains of tiny squirrels. 

When the army had moved on, a wagon arrived, 
containing provisions and even medicines, sent by 
a member of the family whose plantation was not in 
the route laid waste. The loaves of wheat bread 
were a special luxury. 

Dr. Bach man was urged to remain, and lingered 
here for many da3^s. In April he received a letter 
from a member of his congregation (R. G. C), at 
Mars Bluff, S. C, who wrote : 

" Come to us and baptize my baby, and, after 
awhile, we can take you with us by wagon lo Co- 

There were few clothes left to be packed up, and, 
besides Confederate money, Dr. B. owned but one 
small coin. At the Railroad station he Avas recog- 
nized by an official on the road, who said, " Get 
aboard, you are entitled to a free ride." A poor 
country woman stood on the platform with six eggs 
in a little basket, " I have no money," she said, " will 
you take my eggs and carry me to see my sick 
daughter?" The quick response was: "Jump in, 
Granny, and take your eggs as a present to your sick 

He met at' Florence some Federal prisoners on 
their way to Sumter, They were the men suspected 
of having committed the outrage on his person ; 

384 John Bachman. 

but he gave neither sign nor clue, by which they 
could be identified. 

There were no traces at " Mars Bluff" of a bloody 
war; but the hearts of all were sorely anxious. 
Most of the railroads had been destroyed, families 
were separated without the means of communica- 
tion, and rumors of disaster and death were rife. 

During these days of bitter suspense. Dr. Bach- 
man's devices to keep up his spirits were pathetic. 
He taught a class of young people Botany ; the prep- 
aration for the lesson and the drive to the place of 
meeting, Dr. G.'s, proved a happy diversion from 
brooding thought. 

On Sunday afternoons he preached to the negroes. 
AVe find in a note book, this entry : 

Sunday, May 7th. Dr. Bachman preached on the 
Ten Commandments. The negroes attended from all 
the neighboring plantations and formed a large and 
attentive congregation. At the close of the services, 
one of the women, from Gen. Harllee's plantation, 
brought a pair of socks that she had knitted for 
him — the offering of an humble heart grateful for 
religious instruction. 

In April, Gen. Lee's army — the last hope of tlie 
Southern Confederacy, surrendered. 

Dr. Bachman had sought but failed to communi- 
cate, by private hand, with the scattered members of 
his family. At length the oppressive silence was 
broken. Letters reached him containing assurances 
that all his immediate family were safe. Rumor 
asserted that a fire had Uiid waste a large portion 

St. John^s Re-opened. 385 

<3f Charleston. Had he no longer a shelter there for his 
family? A letter from a member of his congrega- 
tion relieved his mind on this head ; but informed 
liim that taxes were to be paid on his house. 
About the same time a letter was received from the 
Avidow of Audubon containing a gift or a loan of 
fifty dollars. A year later, he was able to refund 
tlie amount; but the value of the timely assistance 
could never be measured or repaid. 

The Pastor of St. John's soon made his Avay to 
Charleston. June 11th, his Church was opened 
and his little flock gathered around him, with tears 
and blessings. On this occasion the Communion 
was administered. 

By September, many of the refuges had returned 
to Charleston. We find this record — 

Sunday, September 17th. Forty-two were added 
to the membership of St. John's, the candidates for 
confirmation occupying eight pews. Pastor and peo- 
ple were greatly encouraged. He wrote: 

October 29th. " I am still endeavoring, although, 
with declining strength, to preach to my people. 
They supported me liberally when they were able, 
now we are all poor together, and I am sharing their 

Haskell expects to return to Charleston next 
week. I shall live with him in my own house : I 
believe with old Stilling — " The Lord ivill provided I 
am now in my seventy-sixth year, and it cannot be 
long before my Heavenly Father shall call me 
home. I hope to be faithful to^ my God and 
Saviour. I have no merit of my own and lean on 
Him who is mighty to save. 

386 John Bachman. 

God has visited my people with His grace. Forty- 
two were added to the Church lately, and twenty- 
five are prej^aring to unite Avith us hefore next 

To Mrs. Emily E., a member of St. John's. 

I wish that youi' dear family had heen left to 
solace me in my age and sorrow. True I am not 
Avithout a hope that we shall meet again even in 
this uncertain world. If not, I trust that we shall 
be prepared, through tlie mercy of a Saviour, to 
dwell together in a land where there are no partings. 
If the half hour spent with you — all that T had to 
spare in tlie midst of many pressing engagements, 
was so delightful, how joyful it will be when we 
meet to spend an eternity of bliss at (xod's right 

I sometimes detect in myself a seci'et wish that 
the journey -was ended ; but then, I call to mind that 
He who placed me here, has alone the right to re- 
call me, and I try to be governed by His will and 
say, " not nij/ ivlll but TJiine be done.'' 

In our congregation the chronic cases remain 
about tlie same. Others are very low : Mr. 0. is 
dying of dropsy ; he is still much troubled in mind, 
I see him ever}^ day. I liave a group of new cases 
out of the congregation, that you are not acquainted 
Avith — I am of course, very busy. '"' '• ♦ * * 

Remember me kindly to your good husband. 1 
had hoped long before this, to have laid my hand 
upon his head, but we must still live in hope and 
prayer. Perhaps when lie goes into the fields to 
meditate, like the patriarch, he may find the Saviour, 
whom he did not acknowledge in the Church, i 
})ray God to instruct and bless him. "^ * "^^ 

You see I write with a treml)linii' hand, and nut 

A Weary Pilgrim. 387 

without pain. You will prize niy letters, as they 
cost an effort. 

'* At the first meeting of the Vestry of St. .John's, 
the President presented a discouraging account of the 
injuries which the property had sustained, and the 
losses of the Cliurch. Much was said of the sorrows 
that had fallen on the people and of their poverty. 
A considerable debt, which more prosperous times 
had disdained to pay, hung over them. It was 
resolved to take up a collection every Sunday morn- 
ing — half of it to be given to the support of the 
Pastor, and half to the expenses of service. After 
a little while the members began to pay for their 
pews at half the rate in u?;e formerly, and, in 1866, 
the old rates were restored. 

It is pleasant to read in the Minute Book the 
record of the mutual affection of Pastor and people."* 

The step of the Pastor was feeble; individual 
members of his congregation presented him wath a 
horse and buggy, and his heart overflowed with 
thankfulness. His eyes were to him " the thorn in 
the flesh; the trouble steadily increased, and in 1868, 
the need of an Assistant in the Church became 
apparent to Pastor and people. 

-■^Rev. Edward T. Horn, D. D., Charleston Year Book. 

After the War. 

An assistant pastor engaged — address on HUMBOLDT — FIFTY- 

JANUARY, 1869, a committee was appointed to con- 
fer with Dr. Bachman with regard to an assistant 
for St. John's. Just at that time Rev. W. W. Hicks, 
of the Dutch Reformed Church, arrived in Charles- 
ton, and was introduced to the Pastor of St. John's. 
The former visited him and spent hours in his 
study. His impressive reading of the Bible touched 
the Doctor's heart. Mr. Hicks signified his willing- 
ness to serve him as an assistant, and expressed a 
desire to leave the Dutch Reformed Churcli and to 
join the Lutheran. He was engaged for six montlis. 
On the 14th of September, 18(39, the centennial 
anniversary of the birth of Humboldt occurred. Dr. 
Bachman's German fellow-citizens urged liim, on 
the ground of his personal acquaintance with tlic 
great scientist, to prepare an address for the occa- 
sion. Although lie hesitated at first, his heart 

Humboldt 389 

Avarmed as he thought over the subject, and he 
dictated to his amanuensis with his usual freedom. 

The address is remarkable for its freshness, writ- 
ten, as it was, in the eightieth year of his age, when 
he w^as too feeble to deliver it himself. 

We give it in full, as it appeared in the CJiarlesfon 
Courier : 


Having been honored with a request from the 
German Societies of Charleston to join in the cele- 
bration of an event which recalls to the mind not 
only of the German, but to the man of science in 
every land, the name, character, and eminent use- 
fulness of one of the greatest men in the natural 
sciences which the world has ever produced, I feel 
at a loss to decide where I am to begin, or which of 
the numerous subjects presented in the eventful 
life of Humboldt it would be most interesting to 
dwell upon. 

I have thought that you might be most interested 
in a few of the reminiscences of my early inter- 
course with that great man, who, even at my first 
acquaintance with him, appeared among the 
naturalists and philosophers, as a giant among a 
race of pigmies. We delight to trace the history 
of a great mind, who climbed far beyond the foot- 
prints which his predecessors had left, and, from 
this still eminence, listened to the harmony of the 
universe, and repeated its music to a listening 
world. He whose life and history are called to our 
remembrance to-day, has left a name, so world- 
renowned, that, until now, none have equaled it. 
" That name echoes from the peak of Teneriffe, the 
summits of Chimborazo, and the gigantic ranges of 

39D John Bachman. 

the Iliniala^^as. Where science, from her mountain 
throne, contemplates the vast monuments on which 
time has recorded the history of the world, or, 
unfolding the bosom of the earth, reveals the record 
of the successive phases of its development ; 
wherever the tides of ocean, the rush of mighty 
rivers, and the stillness of. unbounded plains, pro- 
claim the laws which make this globe a habita- 
ble world — wherever forests wave, decked with ex- 
uberant foliage, laden with many hued and fragrant 
flowers, and fruits of luscious taste, and teeming 
with throngs of beasts, birds and insects — through- 
out nature's richest kingdoms, the name of Hum- 
boldt stands confessed — the greatest of nature's his- 
torians, the wisest and most eloquent expounder of 
lier laws."^'" 

It was in the latter part of the summer of 1804, 
that I was permitted, for the first time to look upon 
the countenance, to press the hand, and listen to the 
interesting words of this great philosopher. He 
had arrived in Philadelphia, witli his associate, 
Bon plan d, after liaving explored almost every 
portion of Mexico, and measured the heights of the 
Cordilleras, and Chimborazo. He had visited por- 
tions of South America, which had not been reached 
by previous travellers, he had remained in Havana 
for ten months, where he completed his political 
essay on Cuba, and after a five years residence in 
America, he was now about to return to Europe. 
Efforts were made to evince the respect of the com- 
munity for such a successful traveller, and so emi- 
nent a naturalist. Attempts were made to collect 
together the few who had any pretensions to natural 
science, residing in Philadelphia. I was then a 
^student, and only sixteen years of age, but it being 

^'Humboldt's Tiebeii, von Herman Klouke. 

Early Acquaintance with ILnnholdt. ']^U 

known tliat I was occasionally in the habit of ac« 
company ing Wilson in his researches in Ornithology, 
and of spending my vacations and Saturdays in 
Bartram's garden, the usual resort of botanists, I 
was honored with an invitation to meet those who 
were about to welcome this eminent philosopher 
and naturalist to our country I felt that I was not 
deserving of the high honor of the invitation, and 
mention the fact here, to show how scanty, in those 
days, were the material in natural science. A din- 
ner had been prepared for the occasion \\\ Peal's 
Museum. Among the few naturalists who attended 
were the two Bartrams, Wilson, the Ornithologist, 
Lawson, his engraver, George Ord, and a few 
others, whose names have now escaped my recollec- 
tion. To this small group was added a considerable- 
number of men who were eminent in the various 
departments of literature and science. Few speeches 
Avere made, and. those were short — there was no 
formality. Humboldt was then, as he was after- 
Avards, in every society, ^'the observed of all ob- 
servers," ready to answer any question that was- 
propounded to him, and evidencing throughout a 
spirit of gentleness and kindness, and great amia- 
bility of character. I saw him every day during* 
the few days he remained in Philadelphia. He in- 
serted my name in his note-book, and for the last 
sixty years we corresponded at long intervals. Plis 
publications, as they successively appeared, mostly 
in the French language, with the exception of his 
" Aspects of Nature," which was in German, were 
regularly sent to me. It would have been very 
gratifying to me, and interesting to your societies, 
if I could have exhibited to you his autograph in 
some of his letters; but, alas ! my whole library and 
all my collections in Natural History, the accumu- 
lation of the labors of a long life, were burnt by 

392 John Bachman. 

Sherman's vandal army, and, with the exception of 
a single letter, which, by accident, fell into the 
hands of another member of my family, I possess no 
memorials of one who condescended to speak of me 
as a friend. 

Thirty-four years passed away, and I was once 
more permitted to renew a personal intercourse 
Avhich had so long been interrupted. Arriving in 
Berlin, he was the first to welcome me, and to extend 
those civilities which enabled me to feel myself at 
home among the men of learning and science in my 
fatherland. Although years had passed away, time 
had wrought but very little change in his counte- 
nance, or in his habits. He was the same cheerful, 
pleasant companion, the same indefatigable student, 
giving but four hours to sleep, and laboring in his 
studies with uninterrupted zeal. 

When about to separate, we arranged to renew 
our intercourse again at the Association of Natural- 
ists, who were to meet that year at Freyburg in the 
Duchy of Baden, where were to be congregated the 
most eminent Naturalists of Europe. The members 
all dined at a common table, but our breakfast and 
tea were served up in private apartments. An op- 
portunity was thus afforded us for private inter- 
course and conversation with friends. We made 
arrangements to welcome Humboldt into the small 
group who breakfasted and took tea together. A 
few of the eminent Naturalists of Europe composed 
our little party. Professor Buckland, of Oxford, 
was there, and his lady presided at our cheerful 
board. Professor Owen, of England, assisted in 
forming the party. But we were doomed to dis- 
appointment. Humboldt was detained, by order of 
the King, in Prussia, and wrote to express his re- 
gret that he could not be with us. 

I never expected to meet him again, but late in 

Humboldt in Paris. 39B 

the Autumn of that year, happening to be ni Paris, 
and attending a meeting of the French Academy, 
one of the first persons I met, was Humboldt — and 
for two weeks I saw him nearly every day. He 
was still, as usual, the student of Nature, gave his 
hours of repast to a group of friends, who united in 
conversation with him, and devoted the remainder 
of the day to the various studies in those sciences 
to which his life had been devoted. He always 
spoke of himself as an humble student of Nature, 
who knew but little, and was struggling to acquire 
more knowledge. 

It was pleasant and somewhat amusing to observe 
his manner and occupations during the day. At a 
stated hour in the morning he was to be found at 
the Garden of Plants engaged in some investiga- 
tions in Natural History. I met him there with 
his coat off and in an apron that nearly covered his 
whole body, engaged in dissecting an animal that 
had just died in the menagerie. So intent was he 
upon his labors that he seemed to have scarcely 
time to turn his head to answer the various ques- 
tions that were addressed to him. Thus, for some 
hours, every one appeared to be intensely engaged 
in his own work. At a certain time of the day, 
these French philosophers always resolved on an 
hour of rest and recreation. When that time arrived 
one of the attendants passed through the rooms of 
these students of nature, calling aloud, " the hour 
has come, boys, come out to play!^' Instantly the 
whole scene was changed, the philosophers shut lip 
their books, laid aside their instruments, changed 
their outward dress in a few moments, and it ap- 
peared as if a group of happ}^ children were jump- 
ing and frolicking around you. A considerable 
portion of the garden was devoted to a menagerie of 
wild animals,, and among the most amusing were the 

394 John Bachman. 

monkeys, collected from all quarters of the earth. 
Here these philosophers amused themselves until 
the dinner hour, and for a time the sciences were 
all forgotten in the hilarity of the occasion. 
I noticed that Humboldt exerted himself to be 
as gay and happy as any in that most interesting 

The dinner hour arrived, men who wish to ren- 
der their time in Paris agreeable, usually arranged 
to dine together at some of the tables-d'hotes, where 
old associations are renewed, and where they can 
enjoy, uninterrupted, the most entertaining and 
delightful conversations. On these occasions I 
usually met Humboldt. There he was the pleasant 
and instructive companion, and we all conceived it 
to be not only a great privilege but a high honor 
thus to associate with him. 

At the meetings of the Academy of Sciences he 
preferred being a listener. Occasionally, for the 
purpose of eliciting an opinion, a question was put 
to him, which he would answer in a few brief words, 
and then resume his seat. 

At night, to the various parties that were given in 
Paris, Humboldt was always invited, and it appear- 
ed that he never declined the invitations. Ladies 
of the highest rank were not satisfied without an 
introduction, and they always spoke of the occasion 
as one of the greatest honors that had ever been 
conferred upon them. 

I would, just here, remark that Humboldt was, 
in figure, of the medium size, his forehead broad 
and high, his hands and feet delicately formed, his 
locks, in the latter part of his life, of silvery white- 
ness. His eyes were blue, and full of expression. 
Thirty years ago his features appeared undimmed 
by age, and whilst enjoying his conversation, in 
which there was wit and tenderness, you lost for a 

Humboldt. 395 

moment, your reverence for the great man, in your 
admiration for a kind and jovial companion. 

He was born at Berlin, 1769 — a memorable year 
in the annals of genius, for in it were born Sir 
Walter Scott, Cuvier, and Chateaubriand — also, 
the eminent English orators and statesmen — Can- 
ning, Mackintosh, and Brougham. He was of 
baronial lineage, his father was Chamberlain to 
Frederick the Great, and a personal and intimate 
friend of the succeeding king. His father was not 
gifted with any striking qualities. Humboldt was 
indebted for the direction of his education to the 
Baroness, his mother, who was no ordinary woman, 
and whom he loved and venerated. She was de- 
scended from that sturdy race of French Protes- 
tants, whom the revocation of the Edict of Nantes 
scattered abroad, to the advantage of ever}^ country 
where they fixed their abode. This lady appears to 
have transmitted to her son the cheerfulness, viva- 
city, and quickness of apprehension, which belonged 
to her own race, while he inherited from his father 
the tenacity of purpose, which so much distinguishes 
the Teutonic character. 

Humboldt was peculiarl}^ favored in the posses- 
sion of ever}^ advantage for the acquisition of knowl- 
edge. It cannot be said of him that he was ever 
deprived of any thing that was necessary to render 
him a great and eminent man. From his earliest 
years to mature manhood he lacked no instruction 
which wealth, rank or station could lavish upon 
him. He was educated at the University of 
Gottingen. Wherever he went, in his adventurous 
career, the same cordial welcome and co-operation 
awaited him. Kings and Governors vied in pro- 
moting his progress ; lovers and cultivators of science 
in every country contributed of their own stores to 
enrich him, and through him, the world. 

396 JoUn Bachman. 

How vast those resources were, and how usefully 
they were employed, may be seen in his works. He 
lived to a great age. He was born in 1769, and died 
1859, having reached the unusual age of ninety 
years. The whole of his long life was devoted to 
studies and labors calculated to benefit mankind. 
His last work, the " Cosmos," is a monument of 
meditation and research, unequaled in all the labors 
of science. Even when the weight of fourscore and 
ten years lay upon his head, he toiled whilst others 
rested, and it is asserted by those who knew him 
most intimately, that the morning's dawn often sur- 
prised him at his desk. 

He had a brother, Karl Wilhelm, two years his 
senior, who became almost as eminent as himself in 
many of the sciences. 

In the many conversations I had with Humboldt 
he often alluded to his attachment to the American 
nation, and spoke of himself as half an American, 
inasmuch as some of his earliest labors had com- 
menced in America. 

He had no time to devote himself to minor points 
in the sciences. His mind dwelt upon the great 
laws of nature, comprehending the whole circle of 
the sciences. 

In the knowledge of genera and species, and in the 
particular sciences, he had many superiors. Thus 
in the Department of Botany, Linnteus and De 
Candole were fuller. Cuvier and even Buffon had 
entered more minutely into the study of the quad- 
rupeds ; and other authors who devoted them- 
selves to the study of the birds, fishes, insects, 
etc., surpassed him in minute description, but in 
general knowledge he surpassed them all. It is 
not to be wondered at that a man who, by his 
intellectual greatness, towered above the loftiest 
of his contemporaries, and by his simplicity, gen- 

Humboldt Characterized. 897 

tleness, afFability, and modesty of maimer, made 
even the Immblest at home in his society, should 
have become the admired and honored of all men. 
In the streets of Berlin, every one seemed to know 
him, and to love him. Crowds would separate to 
let him pass, without disturbing the reflections in 
which he was engaged. I remarked that the two 
nieces of the king ran up to him in the street to im- 
press a kiss on his cheek, calling him by the endear- 
ing name of " Father." 

In his ninetieth year, with his faculties yet un- 
impaired, when all his associates of early life had 
been removed, and his name had been rendered 
immortal, he was summoned from the earth, and 
all that was perishable was committed to the tomb, 
amid the homage of great scientific bodies, and the 
solemn reverence and silent tears of the multitude, 
who had wondered at his wisdom, and loved him 
for his virtues. 

It is difficult to decide whether he displayed more 
liumility in his greatness, or dignity in his sim- 
plicity. He adorned the highest, and graced the 
humblest position. Having had experience with 
men of all climes, ranks and characters, he was yet 
never known to have made an enemy. 

In order to form some idea of the various sciences 
which Humboldt had studied, and of which he had 
acquired a knowledge above all other men, I refer 
you to a summary contained in the first volume of 
his " Cosmos," where it will be seen that there Avas 
no study, however deep and abstruse, which his 
mind did not grasp, and no aspect of nature with 
which he had not become familiarized. 

The lessons taught us in these simple references 
to the life of a great man, ought not to be overlooked. 
He who desires to be great, must study to acquire 
knowledge. Humboldt considered every moment 

308 John Bachman. 

of time lost, that was not devoted to its acquisition. 
He who would he eminent, must preserve his 
mind pure and elevated, and free from all irregu- 
larities, and indulgence in licentiousness. Ilum- 
hoidt's moral character was pure and without a 
stain. He who desires to hand down his name to 
posterity" among the great and the good, must follow 
the example of Humholdt, and labor to be an orna- 
ment to society and a blessing to mankind. 

January, 1S70, Dr. Bachman preached his fifty- 
fifth anniversary sermon. The altar services, in the 
absence of the Assistant Minister, were conducted 
by the Rev. John H. Honour. The occasion was 
naturally invested with unusual interest — more 
especially to the flock over whom he had presided 
for more than half a century. 

The columns of the Charleston Courier of that date 
have preserved to us tlie sermon. We give a few 
extracts : 

Proverbs, Kith Chapter, 31st verse: '' The hoanj 
head is a croion of glory, if it he found in the way of 
righteousness y 

My Beloved People — Time is ever on the wing — 
everything is in a state of progression — the smallest 
twig gradually swells into tlie majestic tree. This, 
in time, grows old, totters, decays, and falls to the 
ground. The rivulets springing from the fountain 
mingle their streams and form the broad river, which 
hurries onward, onward, until it empties itself, and 
is lost in the mighty ocean. These are emblems of 
human life. And the wise man gives a true esti- 
mate of its shortness — all are hastening to the end of 
their journey ; and if the life of the young is spared, 

His Last Sermon. 399 

the hoary head must come at last; and, if your char- 
acters are formed on religious principles, if you are 
pure, upright, benevolent and pious ; if, in a word, 
you are found in the way of righteousness, then 
your hoary head will be to you " a crown of glory,'' 
shedding its radiance on all around you. 

Your aged pastor, who is now addressing you, 
perhaps for the last time, has arrived at almost the 
extreme verge of human life. The Psalmist exclaims 
— " The days of our years are threescore years and 
ten, and if by reason of strength they he fourscore 
years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow, for it 
is soon cut off, and we fly away ." This is an accu- 
rate description of man's fleeting life. Seventy 
years are accounted by the inspired Psalmist as the 
age to which man, under favorable circumstances, 
may attain ; if, however, by reason of a good consti- 
tution and God's especial aid, he should reach eighty 
years, the period has then arrived when his strength 
shall soon be cut off, and his soul severed from the 
body. As music from the string ascends, so it 
mounts upwards to a home of immortality and joy. 

It is by the permission of an All-Wise Providence, 
that I have presided over this congregation during 
the long period of fifty-five 3^ears to-day, and in three 
weeks I shall have entered upon the eighty-first year 
of my life. I stand not here to-day to repeat the 
history of other days — of the prosperity and adversity 
through which we have passed — hand in hand. I 
only intend to draw some lessons of moral improve- 
ment from our long connection. 

First let us consider the manner in which we 
shall be called to an account before God, our Judge, 
— the one for the performance of his duty as a 
teacher of righteousness, and the other as a hearer 
of God's Word. The minister has this solemn warn- 
ing before him, " Son of man, I have made thee a 

400 John Bacliman, 

watchman unto the house of Israeli' " Whe7i I saij 
nnto the ivlcked thou shalt surely die, and thou givest 
him not warning, the wiclced man shall die in his 
iniquity, but his blood ivill I require at thine hand. But 
■if thou warn the ivicked and he turn not from his wicked- 
ness, he shall die in his iniquity, but tliou hast delivered 
thy sold." You perceive then, my dear brethren, 
how solemn, how awful are our responsibilities. 

Think not, my clear friends, that your Pastor, who 
has endeavored to discharge his duty, however im- 
perfectly, to your forefathers, to your fathers and to 
you, has been actuated by personal feelings against 
you when he spoke of your neglect of duty, or de- 
sired to find favor in your sight by palliating your 
short comings. You have heard his authority for 
the reproof of your errors, and his encouragement 
for leading you in the path of truth and of duty. 

Young man, young woman, as yet you have only 
been permitted to pluck the blossoms of Spring, still 
you have been long enough in this garden of the 
world to learn to discriminate between the pure, the 
fragrant, and the wholesome, and that which is 
poisonous and malevolent. 

Ye middle aged, have ye not heard the oft-re- 
peated assurances of the punishments that will be 
reaped by sin, and the rewards secured by integrity, 
uprightness and piety. Ye aged, have ye not had 
time enough in your probation, to learn that the 
hoo/ry head is a crown of glory — but only if it be found 
in the way of righteousness. 

I desire most earnestly to see the work of grace 
abounding in the hearts and lives of my people. 
Often and often, for many years past, has the Spirit 
of God visited us — very recently some wlio had 
waited long, surrendered their hearts to God. One 
who had resolved to be among us was cut down 
suddenly before the opportunity was afforded him 

A Last Appeal. 401 

to dedicate himself to God ; the Ahnighty, no doubt, 
accepted the will for the deed. And many others 
are before me, who have long, very long,, been the 
subjects not alone of the prayers of their aged Pastor, 
but of their wives, their children, their brothers, 
their sisters, and friends. Come, beloved brethren, 
hear my instructions and pleadings, let not my 
words fall unheeded on your ears. He who has so 
long esteemed you as friends, wdio has partaken so 
often of your hospitality, who united you in the 
holy bonds of marriage — who baptized your little 
children — who participated in your joys, and 
mourned with you in your sorrows, comes to you 
now — in the last days of his life, with the earnest 
entreaty, the fervent prayer, " Be ye recoyiciled to 
Gociy You believe in the doctrine of the resurrec- 
tion ; you desire that the tender associations com- 
menced in life, may be perpetuated in heaven. Come, 
take one step more, and God w411 do the rest. Make 
a profession of religion, come with all your imper- 
fections to a throne of grace and mercy, and He who 
said to the penitent of old, '' Thy sins are forgiven 
thee, go and sin no more,'^ will take you under His 
paternal protection and training, and fit you for 
that kingdom which is eternal in the heavens. At 
our next Communion at Easter, we hope and pray 
tliat you will be among the many who will dedicate 
themselves to the service of the living God. ! 
delay not, delay not, my sun of life is rapidly going 
down, and the hands that now invite you, and are 
now ready to bless you, are trembling with four- 
score years. Oh ! what joy, what thankfulness w^ill 
be created in my aged heart, if those to whose fore- 
fathers I have ministered, and for whose descend- 
ants I am now spending my latest breath, should 
with one accord bring the offerings of their hearts 
to the altar of the living God. 

402 John Bachman. 

Brethren, take the best wishes, the fervent pra3^ers 
and the heartfelt blessing of your aged father and 
Pastor. May your children be trained up to the 
fear of God and in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord. Ma}^ the young before me, crowd around this 
altar to receive the blessing of their Heavenly Father, 
may husbands and wives draw nigh to this Table 
of the Lord with devoted aifection in their hearts 
towards each other and towards their God, and may 
these, m}^ aged friends, who are tottering on the 
brink of the grave, now give evidence that they 
have a well grounded hope for their anticipations 
of a reunion with their beloved beyond the grave. 
And may God have mercy upon usalL — Soon — very 
soon, if we walk faithfuily with Him, will earth's 
tears all be wiped away and the waitings of sorrow 
be swallowed up in the songs of joy and rejoicing ; 
chill poverty soon shall be felt no more, but in the 
mansions above — w^ithin the pearly gates, light and 
peace and joy will abound throughout the ages of 
immortality. Amen. 

This was the last time that the aged Pastor of St. 
John's occupied his pulpit — his work as a preacher 
was ended ; l>ut his pastoral labors were still abun- 

Meanwhile the seductive eloquence of the sermons 
of the assistant charmed the congregation and Dr. 
Bachman, witli joy, threw the whole weight of his 
influence in his favor. When the Synod of South 
Carolina convened, Mr. Hicks was received into the 
Lutheran ministry, and was fortliwitli elected co- 
pastor of St. .John's. 

The pews and even the aisles of the Church were 
crowded. About this time, Dr. Bachman sent a 

St. John's. 403 

letter to his Vestry, suggesting that the Clmrch 
sliould be enlarged by extending it thirty feet at the 
east end. In his letter he gives his reasons for the 
same. " This would be in accordance with the 
original plan." "The addition would accommodate 
a sufficient congregation to give the means of sup- 
port for two ministers without putting a burden on 
the pew-holders." 

There was one great difficulty in*the way — the 
space that would be covered by the proposed exten- 
sion was, in part, occupied by graves. It was sug- 
gested that commemorative slabs should be placed 
in the walls of the Church, or, if preferred, the dead 
were to be removed to " Magnolia Cemetery " — the 
Church to bear all expenses. 

The congregation met and the question of en- 
largement was warmly discussed and decided 
upon, by a vote of twenty-one ayes to seventeen 

The minority were, however, greatly dissatisfied, 
and the matter was referred to Chancellor Dunkin, 
who returned answer, " That while the congregation 
had the right to extend the church building over 
the burial lots in question, the monuments could 
not be disturbed without the consent of their 
owners." A meeting of the congregation was forth- 
with called and the subject was fully reconsidered. 
A few of the most enthusiastic proposed to procure 
an eligible site for a new building ; to pull down 
the present church, and to use the material in the 
erection of a larger edifice ; but this suggestion met 

404 John Bachman. 

with few advocates. A resolution was finally 
adopted abandoning the whole scheme. 

Soon after this, against the better judgment of Dr. 
Bachman, the associate Pastor became the Editor of 
" The XIX Century^ a literary journal in which 
politics were also discussed. A bitter political de- 
bate arose between '' The XIX Century,'' and the 
press of Charleston. At this time, South Carolina 
w^as under the misrule of Governor Scott, and the 
community were greatly excited. Dr. Bachman, in 
a letter to his Vestry, August 19th, 1870, wrote : " I 
did what I could to put a stop to the dispute which 
had arisen from the controversy. 1 felt it my duty 
as a Minister of the Church to do all in my power to 
check the further progress of the political quarrel." 

The Associate Pastor sent in his resignation, 
August 23rd, and it was accepted. 

The Pastor, Vestry and congregation acted with 
admirable promptitude and decision. The ensuing 
week a letter was sent to the Rev. J. H Honour, in- 
viting him to become associate Pastor of St. John's. 
Although he declined to accept, yet he kindly con- 
sented to preach to the congregation every Sunday 
morning until a co-pastor should be elected. This 
arrangement was continued for eighteen months. 
The Sunday-school held its session in the afternoons. 
On Sunday mornings, the venerable Dr. Bachman 
occupied a seat in the Church, offered a short 
prayer, and gave the blessing to the congregation. 

Towards the close of 1870, lie often complained of 
a numbness in his left arm, and his physicians 

A Pastor's Reivard. 405 

suspected that what appeared, at first, to be simply 
vertigo, was in reality, incipient paralysis. He 
anade, however, his usual round of visits, and even 
went to Summerville on parochial duty. 

An ill member of his congregation, Miss L. P., in 
search of health, had been received in the home of 
Charles S. Vedder, D. D., (now Pastor of the Hugue- 
not Church, in Charleston). Warm-hearted, intelli- 
gent, cultivated and an earnest seeker after truth, 
she won the love of Pastor and friends. 

Doubts with regard to the doctrine of the Trinity,. 
deterred her from uniting with the Church. Hap- 
pily she w\as in the home of a minister, to whom she 
could freely open her heart. As her health daily 
declined, her soul craved for a closer communion 
with her Lord. 

One morning, at dawn of day, a messenger in 
haste, brought a letter from Dr. Vedder, explaining, 
in a few w^ords, that the attendant physician pro- 
nounced Miss P., near her end ; that she earnestly 
desired to receive the Holy Sacrament, and entreated 
her old pastor to come to her. 

The evening train from Summerville to Charles- 
ton had already left, and in order that Dr. B. 
might take the next morning's train, 6 A. M., the 
messenger had ridden twenty miles, at night, on 

Dr. B. reached his destination, and found his 
dying parishioner eagerly expecting him. When he 
had laid his hand upon her head and consecrated 
her in life and death to the Triune God, and when 

406 JoJm Bachraan. 

she had partaken of the hocly and blood of her 
Lord, a holy calm possessed her soul, and, contrary 
to the expectation of her physician, she lingered on 
earth for several days. She was able to converse 
and to tell him of the kindly ministry of Dr. V. " I 
am not ungrateful to him," she said, " for his great 
kindness and patience in instructing me ; but when 
the light broke into my soul, 1 felt that from early 
childhood I had been carefully taught, and I craved 
to see you once more, to tell you that the good seed 
you had faithfully sown, is the germ of my new 
life." (The writer was present and witnessed this 
touching scene). 

About this time, to the great joy of the Patriarch, 
his eldest grandson, John B. Haskell, decided to 
study for the ministry. 


Illness and Convalesence. 

Letter from .i. a. brown, d. d,, and dr. bachman's reply — 
fru>[ rev. j. b. haskell — reply to letters from miles- 
town, pa. — correspondence between john haskell and 
his grandfather — letters to a. r. rude, d. d., mr. john 
s. fake, rev. t. w. dosh — bereavement — decline. 

JUNE, 1871, Dr. Bachman had a severe stroke of 
paralysis, that for days threatened to terminate 
fatally : he longed to depart ; but, as he once wrote — 
" God had still something for him to do, if it were only 
to sufferT 

Many were the prayers offered by ministers of his 
own and other denominations, and many the hymns 
sung at his bedside. 

His grandson, John Haskell, has preserved in 
writing — what he treasured in his heart — the words 
of faith and trust that fell from the lips of his grand- 

The columns of the Lutheran Visitor, kept the 
Church informed of Dr. Bachman's condition, and 
the daily mails brought letters of inquiry and sym- 
pathy from his brethren in the Ministry. 

We select one from the late J. A. Brown, D. D. 

Gettysburg, Pa., Aug. 14th, 1871. 
My venerated friend and father in Christ : The 
dark chasm of ten years often disappears and reveals 

408 John BacJiinan, 

to me the cherished scenes and memories of our 
brief association in the South. Since the return of 
2)eace, I have, times out of number, thought of writ- 
ing to you. A letter in the ''Lutheran Visitor" has 
touched my heart anew, and I cannot resist the im- 
pulse to drop you a line before you depart where I 
hope " we shall meet in the sweet b}^ and by." 

The uppermost feeling in writing, is to assure you 
of my undiminished regard and of tenderest affec- 
tion, which no change of circumstances or lapse of 
time can or will disturb. Your kindness to me and 
mine, will never be forgotten — you live in all our 

I do not know that I can write anything that will 
be of special interest to you. 

If it will be any satisfaction to receive the hearty 
assurance of our warmest affection, wdth the hope of 
our meeting beyond the turmoils of life, you have 
it ; at least it will be some little satisfaction to me to 
convey to you the evidence of my devoted friend- 

It would be presumption for me to say anything 
about your ''blessed hope'^ or '^the house of many man- 
sions" 1 would be glad to learn something from 
one who has so long walked '* by faith " and is now 
so near " the rest tJiat remaineth" I can only say 
" henceforth there is laid up a croivn of righteous- 

I will not dwell on the memories of the past — 
either those which are briglit, or those which are 
dark and sad. Our motto must be: "forgetting the 
things which are behind^ I think of you only as my 
venerated friend and father in Christ. 

We are all well, trying to do something for our 
beloved Church. Mrs. B. still thinks and speaks of 
you with a daughter's affection. God has been 
gracious to us — we are eight, with parents, ten. If 

Old Friends. 409 

able, I shall be glad of a line from you, if not, with 
Ood's blessing, good-by, until we meet. 
Yours in Christ, 

J. A. B. 
To J. A. Brown, D. D. : 

Charleston, Sept. 11th, 187 J. 

My dear Friend: Age that has given me the 
hoary head, has weakened my memory, and seems 
to have left me very little at the close of a long life, 
but a grateful heart and kind and tender remem- 
brances of mercies and friendships. Time has not 
banished you or your dear wife from my affections, 
or obliterated from my memory our brief and pleas- 
ant association in other years. We are pilgrims 
hastening to a better land, and we have need of 
friendships to cheer us on the way. In a very little 
while we shall have come to the end of our journey — 
-jnine is nearly reached. I trust to be able to say, 
" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.''' — 
and I feel, friend Brown, that a man as conscientious 
in duty, as I know you to be, will be prepared for 
an exchange of worlds. 

May God bless you and yours to the end. Of this 
I am sure that on your journey ,you will never meet 
with one who more heartily wishes you prosperity 
and happiness than 

Your friend and father in Christ, J. B. 

John Haskell, in his letters and diary gives us 
glimpses of those da3^s. 

To Dr. Rude : 

July, 1871. 
'' I never leave the house now, except to go to 
school, (he was teaching), and to drive out in the 
afternoons with grandfather. To-day is Saturday, . 

410 John Bachman. 

and I can be with him all day. lie is doing well 
gaining a little strength, and is able to drive out 
every day. Unhappily, in the mornings, we have 
to contend with him to keep him from going in the 
hot sun to inquire after the sick. The Doctor, when 
he was here this morning, spoke plainly to him, and 
forbade him to expose himself to the heat of theda3^ 
He has quietly acquiesced, and I have been reading 
to him " Audubon's Ornithology/' » >i< ^ ^ 

You write that I am studying Pastoral Theology 
in my grandfather's chamber.* I am glad of it ; if 
it were allowed me, I should like not only to learn 
to figlit like old Luther, but also to soothe like Mel- 
anchthon. * -^ * * 

We are looking for you to come to us early next 
week. Every day grandfather asks, " When will 
Rude be here?" he has repeated the question at 
least six times to-day. Last night he said, " Rude 
has as much in his little finger, as six ordinary men 
have in their whole craniums." 

With returning strength the restless craving for 
work steadily increased. Fortunately, this was in a 
great measure satisfied by his large correspondence. 
Receiving and answering letters became the business 
of his mornings and, probably this preserved the 
brightness of his mind. The judgment and the 
will were often at fault ; but the affections and tlie 
memory continued singularly strong. 

^During Dr. Bachman's pastorate, ten young men from 
St. John's, were trained for the Holy Ministry: 

John G. Schwartz, William D. Strobel, Philii^ A. Strohel, 
Stephen A. Mealy, Ellas B, Hort, John P. Margart, 
Thaddeus S. Boinest, Edwin A. Bolles, James P. Ringv 
JohnB. Haskell. 

Reminiscences of Youth. 411 

Not long before his illness, he had received letters 
from Milestown, Pa., which interested him greatly. 

While a student of Theology, he had taught a year 
at Milestown. 

We give extracts from two letters in reply to Mrs. 
Annie de B. M. 

Your letter was a great cordial to me, and I feel 
haj)py in being permitted to answer it. Writing is 
no fatigue to me, as I have always willing hands 
and affectionate hearts to assist me. h^ * * 

Your second letter informed me that nearly all 
whom I knew and loved in Milestown, have been 
called away : yet the scenes of my youth are still fresh 
in my mind and your letters have, in some measure, 
enabled me to renew the enjoyments of other years, 
and to look again in thought and memory on the 
countenances of those who were dear to me in youth. 

The older I grow the stronger I find my attach- 
ments to early friends — A voice from Milestown, has 
opened a new fountain of tliought and pleasure. I 
liave fancied myself again near the old school and 
along the Milestown road, shaded by immense 
<:herry trees which, I presume, are no longer there. 

The little Paradise — the home of your grand- 
parents, wliich you now occupy — the large and beau- 
tiful garden where your grandmother cultivated her 
flowers, the roomy house where she welcomed her 
friends, can onl}^ be erased from my mind, when 
memory shall be gone and thoughts of earth have 
passed awa3^ 

The garden was close to the dwelling, and one of 
the most beautiful I had at that time seen ; her 
tulips, narcissus, anemones, etc., cultivated by her 
own hand, were full of fragrance and beauty — the 

412 John Bachman. 

passion for flowers is contagious, and I found it had 
extended to several others in the neighborhood. * * 
Your grandfather's photograph, which you so 
kindly sent me,, is a very great treasure. * * Oh, 
how I would prize the photograph of your grand- 
mother, who was so much of a mother to me, when 
I was far from ni}'- own home. I imagine I still see 
her gentle, quiet face, and hear her sweet welcome. 

* 7f -X- * * 

My personal history connected with my visit to 
Pennsylvania is short, and scarcely worth relating. 

I had intended to defray my own expenses while 
studying for the ministry. I remained at Milestown, 
I think, a year; at Frankfort, not quite so long, 
until my studies were so far completed that I ac- 
cepted a call from three congregations in my native 
county, Rennsellaer, w^here I hoped to spend the 
rest of my days as a country parson. >!<>!-* 

I have some pleasant reminiscences of the old 
school house at Milestown (Elwood). It was there 
that Wilson, the ornithologist, first tried his hand 
as a pedagogue, and it was there that William Dun- 
can, his nephew, succeeded him. I met them both 
at Philadelphia, and they advised me to accept the 
offer made me from Milestown. 

The old school house was a large one-story build- 
ing, that appeared to have been enlarged from time 
to time, not simply to accommodate the growing 
school, but to hold a congregation of worshipers 
that were collected together there as often as some 
stray clergyman, of any denomination, happened to 
visit the neighborhood. 

The teachers successively boarded at the house of 
Mr. Gulp, situated a few hundred yards from the 
school house. The pupils were of both sexes, and 
of all sizes and ages. The higher branches, although 
taught, were not much relished. A small class in 

Milestown. 413 

Latin, one in French, and one in German, were, with 
great difficulty, kept up during my short stay. We 
got up a debating society, which histed as h)ng as I 
remained in the neighborhood. I do not remember 
the names of the teachers in Elwood school, beyond 
those of Wilson and Duncan. 

Wilson visited us occasionally from Philadelphia, 
and I always joined him on Saturdays in looking 
for specimens in Ornithology, but without success, 
until I subsequently reached the Northern part of my 
own State (New York). Wilson's nephew, Duncan, 
although shy and diffident, was rather a superior 
man — mild, amiable and pious. He spent a week 
with me among my people in the Northern part of 
New York, and left with me a drawing, in India- 
ink, of the old school house, which had been the 
scene of so many pleasures and pains. 

Sixty years must have effected a great change 
among those people. Milestown, as far as I can now 
recollect, then scarcely contained more than twenty 
houses. I presume, by this time, the old York road, 
as well as that of Germantown, on the other side, is 
studded with houses and thickly populated. 

When our young people went to church on Sun- 
days, they either walked to Germantown on the one 
side, or to Frankfort on the other. There was great 
simplicity of manners in the neighborhood, and we 
did not often hear of any act of immorality. 

Mr. Gulp's house (where I boarded) was not only 
open to the waggoner and traveller, but was also a 
weaving establishment, and the pond, not far from 
the house, contained a chocolate mill. 

There were a few tradesmen ; there were small 
farms around the village, and fruits in small quan- 
tities were cultivated ; but ver}^ little had been done 
that indicated much improvement. * * * 

The names of persons living in the neighborhood 

414 John Bacliman. 

<at that time are tolerably fresh in my recollection. 
Your cousins, the Thomas's, were my associates ; I 
was most intimate with the mother and the two 
elder daughters — the second of them a gentle, timid 
and lovely little creature, died while I was there, 
and I assisted at her funeral. The Leach family, 
residing some few miles above Milestown, were my 
personal friends. Do you remember a family by the 
name of Peaky ? The old mother had caught the 
infection for plants from your grandmother, and 
had an enormous Century Plant (Agave) which oc- 
cupied nearly the whole room. The Rev. xMr. Ten- 
nant and his wife, (Rev. T. was the last of a cele- 
brated family of Presbyterian ministers) I was in 
the habit of visiting on Sundays and attending the 
services of the Church with them. We have a small 
branch of the same family residing here. * * * 
My inclination is sufficiently disposed to comply 
with your kind invitation to visit old Milestown 
once more; but alas! ni}^ travelling days are rapidly 
drawing to a close. I hope to have strength enough 
to visit a son who is residing in Georgia, after which 
I shall be prepared, 1 trust, for my journey home 
to that better world where, washed from imperfec- 
tion, we shall dwell with the pure and perfect at 
God's right hand. * "^^ * 

. The journey to his son's home was not accom- 
plished. He was again stricken with paralysis 
before it could be undertaken. 

In September he had sufficientl}^ recovered to 
permit his grandson, John Haskell, to leave his side 
for his first visit to the North. We find an almost 
daily correspondence between his grandfather and 
himself. Short letters in which the old Patriarch 

Paralysis. 415 

poui's out to his young relative, the wealth of his 
'lender love — addressing him no longer as a grand- 
son, but as " my dear son." Among John Haskell's- 
papers, we find preserved the parting prayer offered 
by his grandfather on that occasion. 

To J. B. Haskell : 

Sept. 16th, 71. 

Few sons are privileged to receive almost every 
day a letter from a father : you must take it as aii 
evidence of my deep affection for you. 
' I am glad that you are well and happy. Let me 
advise you, if you wish to keep in the good graces 
of the home-folk, old and j^oung. to keep them well 
posted with regard to all that interests you. 

Give my kindest remembrance to every member 
of the Audubon family. The names of Audubon 
and Bachman are closely connected in science — the 
two men worked together pleasantly and harmoni- 

My health continues feeble, but I am thankful ta 
our kind Father in heaven who has preserved my 
life for so many years. 

I look to the atoning blood of my Saviour for the 
pardon of my sins and the salvation of my soul i 
and, if we can believe that God will save our souls, 
surely we can trust in His mercy for all the rest. 

Your studies I have deeply at heart. Your tastes 
lie in a literary direction and you are well calculated 
for your chosen profession — Theology. Look up to 
your God and be fervent in prayer. Let nothing 
divert you from your high aims. Let your Heav- 
enly Father ever be your director and guide. You 
see how anxious I am about you, my son. My fer- 
vent prayers and my best and last counsel is yours. 
You have heard of your uncle Wilson's recent 

416 John Badiman. 

trial — all bis possessions destroyed by fire. I am 
glad tbat bis losses occurred before my deatb, that 
I migbt do tbe little in my power to assist him. 
It comforts me to feel assured tbat we often learn 
more from adversity^ tban from prosperity. 

Your affectionate grandfatber, J. B. 

To A. R. Rude, D. D. : (Professor of Tbeology.) 

" I. bave for some time tbougbt of writing to you 
witb regard to Jobn Haskell, bis studies and pur- 
suits. I indulge tbe bope tbat if bis life is spared, 
he will give bis energy and talents to tbe Churcb, 
and, at present, I see no obstacle to prevent tbe same. 
I desire to place bim under your care as bis teacber, 
adviser and friend. I do not know bow long a wise 
Providence may permit bim tbe privilege of study- 
ing under you, but I do know tbat you will en- 
deavor to impart to bim your best instruction and 
advice, and I feel confident, tbat bis course will be 
sucb as will render bim a credit to you and an orna- 
ment to tbe Cburcb of bis forefathers. He is the 
subject of daily tbougbt, conversation and prayer. 
I rejoice in tbe bope tbat when I am no longer on 
earth, I shall have left a grandson in the ministry. 

Witb best wishes, my dear friend, for your pros- 
perity, usefulness and happiness. 

I remain, faithfully your friend, J. B. 

John Haskell to his Grandfather: 

Audubon Park, Sept. 1st, 71. 
*' I fear, my dear grandfather, tbat I have not sent 
you as many letters as I should, but I think often 
of 3^()U — indeed seldom have you long out of 
my mind. I have given tbe news and my impres- 
sions of many things in other letters, all of which 
w'ere to be read to you. I am enjoying myself just 

Letters to His Grandson. 417 

as much as you could desire, and it would please 
you to look in upon me and see me well and happy. 
I have seen many interesting relics of Audubon, the 
Naturalist, and many happy traces of you. I have 
met people who knew j^ou, and if I had a little time 
to spare, should searcli out your relatives. I have 
seen much of men and things since I left you, and 
shall take aw^ay with me many pleasant impressions. 
The Audubons have treated me in the kindest man- 
ner possible, and even strangers have shown me 
unexpected hospitality. -^ * * 

While I am enjoying myself I am not unmindful 
of higher things. 

This is only a little note written while I am wait- 
ing to go by train to the city — a Mr. W. has been my 
guide to the famous '' Gold-room " w'ith its Bulls 
and Bears, also to the Equitable Insurance Building 
and to the Elevated Railroad, where we looked down 
upon the moving uiixus below us. * * I shall have 
much to tell you when we meet. In haste. 

Your loving grandson, J. B. H. 

To HIS Grandson. 

Charleston, Sept. 1871. 

My dear Son — It is a great pleasure for me to 
write to you ; lately I have had an impression that 
your letters, like angels' visits, are not frequent, but 
when they do come, though they do contain a little 
nonsense, they are most acceptable. Best a little 
now and recreate, and you will be the better able to 
carry on vour studies. 

Let us hear constantly fiom 3'ou, I want to know 
what impression new scenes make upon your mind ; 
but above all, I crave to know from you that your 
heart is fixed, and that you will allow notliing 
to divert you from the high aim you have proposed 

418 John Bachman. 

to yourself, viz, the study of the ministry. Your- 
chosen profession involves a nobler estate than any 
earthly field. When I am no longer here, remem- 
ber, John, I confidently expect that you will tread in 
my footsteps; you possess more than a moderate 
share of talent and many advantages. Improve them 
all. To God I commit you; without His aid and 
blessing you can do nothing, with it you may ac- 
complish almost any thing; prepare yourself not 
only to become a good preacher, but also a faithful 
pastor. Let us remain solid Lutherans, as firm as 
old Martin himself — we must be instructed by the 
example of our foref[\thers. Lean upon the arm of. 
God ; be faithful to duty, and He w^ill bless and guide 
you. Your affectionate grandfather, J. B. 

John Haskell, in reply. 

Columbia, Sept. 18th, 1871. 

M}^ dear Grandfather — I send you, as usual, a 
daily line. I shall soon turn my face homewards. I 
have much to tell you of deep interest — God has 
been good to me in every w^ay. I have received 
your precious letters and dearly appreciate them. * * 

My heart is full of gratitude for the opportunity 
and privilege to study for the Ministry. He gives 
me all that I ask for, and when He denies, I trust 
that I shall realize that it is because, with so many 
blessings, it is but just that I should have my share 
of trials. 

I am gaining much by being w^ith Dr. Rude. 
Whenever I go to his room, he gives me some 
work to do, and I am glad to help him. I expect to 
spend a great deal of time in his study. He has 
presented me with a most valuable book " The Con- 
scrrative B ('formation" by Krauth, which he says, 
will be a text-book for Lutheran Theology — I ia- 

An Old Friend. 410 

tend to make good use of it. He has lent rac Max 
Muller's, *' Chips from o, German Workshop,'' which I 
am reading with deep interest. 

It gives me joy to hear that j^our health is 
improving. I think of you a great deal, and have 
imagined or dreamed, more than once, that I heard 
you calling me in the night 

■ I have written at Dr. R.'s request, two or three 
articles for The Lutheran Visitor, and have copied 
out some old addresses, &c., which, when you read, 
you will recognize. Dr. R. has encouraged me 
greatly ; he says that I am a good writer and a 
sprightly one ; that I am to lay in knowledge and I 
shall do well. I do not take this as praise, but 
simply a truth that God has given me some gifts 
that I may use in His service — if one talent, then I 
must work hard to make it tell ; if more, I must 
work veri/ hard, for more will be required of me. 
Aunt Julia B. tells me that I have wliat ^hc calls 
the Bachman characteristic of (knowingly) not 
troubling myself for the future — but trusting; if it 
be so, I am thankful and glory in the inheritance. 
Give me your blessing, my grandfather, that it may 
act on me and re-act on yourself. God is taking 
good care of us all. 

• With much love to you, to the one who reads this 
to you — and to all. 

I am ever, your loving grandson, Joiix. \ 

To John S. Fake, Esq., President of National Ex- 
change Bank, of Lansington, N. Y. : 
Mr. Fake's sister had married Dr. Bachman's 

brother, Henry. 

CiTAiu.ESTOX, Sept. 8th. 1871. 
My Dear Sir: lam under the impression that 

you and I are almost the only survivors of a large 

congregation and of many tried friendships. 

420 John Bachmai}. 

We once walked together, worshiped together, 
and prayed together; now many hundreds of miles 
separate us from each other. It is but natural that 
we should like to hear from each other in this world, 
and I shall be very happy if you would devote an 
hour or two to waiting to me. 

All the members of my old congregation at Schag- 
ticoke, I presume, have been removed to their rest 
and reward. 

A good God has long spared my life; I am 
paralyzed, but suffer no pain. I am nearly eighty- 
two years of age, and am preparing for that last 
change that must come to all — with regard to my 
prospects for eternity, my assured hope is in the 
atoning sacrifice of my Saviour. 

Since I last wrote you, few changes have taken 
place in my family. I have one son in Columbia^ 
practicing law, another a farmer an(1 nurseryman in 
Georgia. I have around me two married and one 
single daughter ministering to my comfort. I have 
seventeen grandchildren, and two greatgrand- 
children living. 

One grandson is about to study for the ministry — 
he is a great source of comfort and pleasure to me. 

^K ^ ^ ^ * ^ He 

May God bless you, prepare you for your duties 
and trials on earth, and the rewards of the just be- 
yond the grave. I hope to meet you in that bright 
and happy world above. 

Truly and ever, your friend, J. B. 

To Rev. T. W. Dospi, of Virginia, who had been 
elected assistant Pastor of St. John's, Charleston : 

Charleston, Nov. loth, 1871. 
My dear Friend and Brother: Your very wel- 
come letter of acceptance of the call extended to you 

Letters to Rev. Dr. Dosh. 421 

by my vestry and congregation, has drawn you very 
near my heart. 

We are to be connected by intimate ties — you are 
to be to me more than a brother — to engage in 
labors that once were mine. I pledge myself to do 
the little in my power to render your labors pleas- 
ant and satisfactory. As good Lutherans, our sole 
aim shall be to advance the best interests of the 
cause which we both love ; and when our work on 
earth is ended, may we be fitted to enter into that 
rest prepared for the people of God. 

I shall anxiously await your arrival, and, if my 
life is spared, welcome you and your dear family 
with an open heart. 

Truly and devotedly your friend, J. B. 

To THE Samp: : 

Charleston, Dec. 20th. 1871. 

In acknowledging the receipt of your kind letter 
of November 28th, in which you appoint the 10th 
of January as the time of your arrival among us, I 
cannot but express to you the pleasure it gives me 
to know that you will so soon be in our midst. 

M}^ mind has been greatly relieved by your ac- 
ceptance of the call from our Church. I feel that I 
can place full confidence in you. I hope and believe 
that your coming to us will be productive of much 
good to the Church. 

I have but a single request to make, which, I 
trust, you will not think unreasonable. My desire 
is that you, witli every member of your family, may 
consider yourselves pledged to dine with me on the 
first day of your arrival, or as soon after as may be 
convenient and agreeable to you, so that you may 
dine at my house before you accept an invitation 
from any one else in Charleston. Come to us, we 

422 John BacJiman. .. 

•will welcome you with our whole hearts. With 
kind wishes for 3'ourself and family, 

Your friend and aged brother in Christ, J. B. 

The illness and death of Dr. Dosh's youngest 
child detained him in Winchester. On the 8th of 
February he reached Charleston ; the day after his 
arrival the wish of the old Pastor of St. John's was 
gratified — the families dined together in his homel 
Inexperienced in the school of suffering, he had ready 
words of Christian sympathy for the bereaved fam- 
ily. The close relation established between the two 
pastors from the beginning, remained uninterrupted 
to the end. 

During the following months we find the record 
of many visits paid by Dr. Bach man. He would 
stop at the door of his parishioners ; in a few minutes 
the grandmother and mother, with the baby, would 
come out to welcome him. Sometimes his com- 
panion would resign her seat to an invalid to whorn 
he desired to give the fresh air. Month after month 
peacefully glided away. He had entered his eighty- 
third year. The absent members of his family, on 
his birthday, sent him letters of congratulation, and 
in the home, friends united with the family in cele- 
brating the day appropriately. 

. Alluding to this time, the Spring of 1872, Johii 
Haskell wrote : " Among the very last acts of my 
grandfather's life, was taking part in the Ladies 
Society of St. John's. Riding in his carriage to the 
place of meeting, and being borne into the room^ 
here he sat joyous among his heart's children. He 

Another Sorroiv. 423 

opened the meeting with his short, but fervent 
praj^er. The little children gathered around him 
to kiss the aged cheek and nestle near the cherished 

On the 12th of June, a blow came to the heart of 
Joh.n Bachman, from which heiiever rallied — the 
death, after t^^enty-four hours' illness, of his son-in- 
law, Mr. William E. Haskell, who, like a devoted 
son, had watched over his declining years. He did 
not murmur, but his mind seemed utterly over- 
whelmed by the mysterious Providence that had left 
the aged man, who earnestly longed to depart, and 
had removed the younger— the active worker, upon 
v;hom so man}^ depended. 

John Haskell rose from a bed of sickness, and, with 
the strength of unselfish lovC; endeavored to fill up 
the gap. With a tenderness akin to angel ministry, 
he sought, and not in vain, to soothe and support 
the aged sufferer, who looked up to and leaned upon 
him — for " iJie almond irrc " was beginning " tojlour- 
wh and desire to fail." Tiie notes of the singing bird 
no longer .attracted his attention — all was a blank 
now — save the voice of a friend, and the name of 

Another birthday (Itli February), and again 
another, was quietly celebrated in his home, and the 
love-offerings called forth grateful smiles. His de- 
cline was so gradual that his family were scarcely 
conscious of it, until the twelfth of Fel^ruary, 1874. 

The Close of Life. 

From johx haskell's diary — from dr. wightman — dr. a. r. 
rude— j. f. ficken, esq. — memorial services — lines by 
prof. w. j. rivers— bachman endowment fund— mural 



ROM John HaskeWs Journal: 

Tluirsday, February r2th, 1874. I went to my 
grandfather's chamber at 8 P^. M. He was seated in 
his large arm-chair, where, at his request, he had 
been phiced at 4 A. M. I spoke to him but he did 
not answer. We saw that he had been stricken 
anew with paralysis. 

Friday and Saturday. He remains in a complete 

Sunday 15th. This morning grandfother revived ; 
his physicians pronounce that though the attack is 
over, he lias not the strength to rally fro^i it. 

Miss Maria H., (the late Mrs. R. G. Chisolm) was 
with us, she sang '' Gentlj/, Lord, gently lead us,'' and 
we joined in — as the singers sang hymn after hymn, 
he would say, " slny, yes, sing.'' It was a solemn and 
toucliing scene, and we were all moved to tears. I 
asked " Shall I read the Psalms ?" He answered 
"Yes! " I read the XCIst— " He that dwelleth in the 
secret place of the Most High,, shall abide under the 
sJiadow of the Almighty :" and the last chapters from 

The Last Illness. 425 

Revelations. AVhile Aunt C. read hymn^ to him he 
repeated, in falteruig accents, the familiar stanzas. 

Monday. There is little change. 

Tuesday. He is lying calm and peaceful, listening 
to passages from the Scriptures and hymns. 

Wednesday. He is peacefully sleeping away his 
life into the arms of the Eternal. 

Thursday. At one o'clock this morning, grand- 
father's brow and cheeks were cold, we thought him 
nearing his departure, but while we gazed he 
opened his eyes and put his hand to his head. I 
asked, "Do you know me?" He answered clearly 
"Yes " — and my heart poured itself out in thanks- 
giving to God for His tender mercy in comforting 
me. He looked inquiringly at Mr. F. who said, " it 
is John Ficken. We cannot forget to come to see our 
dear old pastor." Mr. Henry Steinmeyer spoke to 
him, he moved his lips, but we could not catch what 
he said. 

From A. R. Rude, D. D. 

Columbia, Feb. 19th, 1874. 

Let the pilgrim go home to rest — to joy — to Him, 
who will crown his good and faithful servant. How 
providential was my last visit to Charleston (to ad- 
minister the Holy Sacrament). His farewell kiss 
lingers on m}' lips and sanctifies them. 

I shall come when you summon me. 

From John HaskeWs Journal : 

Friday 20th. Grandfather has taken a little nour 
ishment. Daring the day I read to him the 259th 

426 John Bachman. 

hymn (Book of Worship), x^fter reading the line 
" Trust in tJie mercy of thy God" 1 asked, "Do you 
trust only in the Lord Jesus ?" The answer came 
—"Yes" — clear and loud, all in the room heard it. 
Thanks be to God for all the abundant testimony to 
His glorious Gospel ! 

Revds. Honour and Bowman came in. Mr. 
Honour asked '' Shall I read to you ?" he answered 
in the affirmative, and his favorite hymns were 
selected. Then we sang — the whole family were in 
the room. It was a blessed scene and I pray God 
that it may be sanctified to us all. 

From Rev. Dr. WigJdmau. 

" I knew Dr. Bachman long, loved him well, and 
was honored with a place at his bedside. He called 
no man ''fatJier ;" but as an independent Christian 
philosopher, he brought into harmony the moral 
and material universe, and then fearlessly, in the 
very face of so-called science, pronounced his deci- 
sions in favor of the truth as it is in Christ. How 
ought such a man to die? There he lay on his 
couch serene and beautiful, with his white locks 
falling over his temples, and with a loving family 
caressingly gathered around his pillow. Though 
the great intellect had already set, yet the twilight 
before the approaching night, was so calm and sweet 
and radiant with the lingering light of a life spent 
for Christ, that the scene ot that death-bed appeared 
to be just under the shadow of heaven." 

The flowers he loved best were placed near him ; 
his chamber was not darkened — only the glare of 
liglit shut out. As he lay there " under the shadow 

The Last Days. 427 

of heaven," his own description of the closing hour^ 
of a just man's life, written thirty-six years before, 
was singularly applicable, ;, 

1838. TJlc Lake of Constance. The sun is just 
setting, and the very heavens seem to be in unison 
with the scene. The clouds, on a blue ground, have 
a rich and ruddy hue, and the outer edges are 
wreathed with silver. The Lake is an almost un-^ 
broken mirror. Behind me how different the scene 
—dark and murky clouds are hanging over the 
snow-clad Alps. 

Now we are entering the little harbor of Con- 
stance — the boat is moving slowly ; the sun seems 
to be setting almost behind the waters, rising and 
sinking at the moment of his departure, leaving a 
golden stream on the edges of the neighboring 
clouds, reminding me of the last hours of a just 
man's life — calmly, as the setting sun, his day closes, 
^nd the bright light of his example is left to edify 
and gladden the world. 

John HashelVs Journal. 

Friday evening. Dr. Rude has arrived. Aunt 
Julia B. crossed the room just now. Grandfather 
asked, ''Who is it?" On being told, he said."! 
iove her — Hove you all.^^ (Those were his last words.) 

Monday evening. He has slept througli to-day, 
scarcely breathing. 

luesday. In the early morning, Aunts Jane and- 
C. sent me to get a little rest. During the nighty 
grandfather would, apparently, cease to breathe— 
these cessations lasted for about thirty seconds. At 
9.2U A. M., Aunt C. awoke me. saying that one of the 

428 John Bachmon. 

cessations of breathing was longer than usual. I 
went down and watched for a minute. The grand 
spirit had departed — asleep to the troubles of earth, 
awake to the bliss of eternity ! 

Rev. Mr. Dosh, Mr. Henry Steinmeyer, and myself 
robed him in the silk gown that the ladies of his con- 
gregation had made liim, and we bore liim in our 
arms to the drawing-room. He looks so placid, calm, 
peaceful, beautiful, like a saint — and he was a saint ! 

All day long the people are coming — how they 
love him ! Old and young, rich and poor, refined 
and rough — all weep over him — they kiss him and 
call him father and friend. The love that this pure 
spirit won from all who came in contact with him 
is wonderful. 

Wednesday. Crowds have been here to-day. Little 
children asked to be lifted in our arms to kiss him- 
A strong, rough mechanic, with tears in his eyes, 
kissed his brow and e3^es. Clergymen of every de- 
nomination have called. 

Rev. Dr. Girardeau came, and said : ** Your 
grandfather introduced me to the hospitals ; he took 
me into the wards, while he talked with ill and 
dying men in their own tongues — German, Dutch» 
etc. I wondered how he could get through his pas- 
toral duties, and yet find time to do so much in the 
hospitals. I never saw a man as active as he in 
^very time of public calamity." 

Until late at night they came — whites and col- 
ored — every station was represented. Hundreds 
said, " He baptized me." 

The Funeral 429 

St. Michael's Church (Episcopal) called a meeting 
to-cla}^ to give expression to their respect and admi- 
ration for him — they request permission to toll their 
bell — old St. Michael's peal — for him. This is a touch- 
ing and beautiful tribute — a Christian S3Mnpathy 
that rises high above all non-essential differences. 

Thursday, 26th. At ten o'clock the obsequies took 
place. His remains, in a metallic casket, were borne 
to St. John's Church. The pall-bearers were all 
selected from the congregation. The faculty of 
"The Charleston College suspended the exercises of 
the College. The funeral cortege from the home 
was very large, and the Church densely crowded." 

St. John's had not been draped in mourning by 
stranger hands — her sons and daughters performed 
this " labor of love." Everywhere white was inter- 
woven with the black — mourning below — ^joy above. 

The services were conducted by Revs. T. W. Dosh, 
J. H. Honour, L. Miiller W. S. Bowman, and A. R. 
Rude, D. D. 

The body was interred in a vault beneath the 
altar, above which rested a sable bier, concealed by 
a wealth of floral offerings. 

The next Sunday, March 1st, a smitten flock 
gathered sadly in St. John's. The co-pastor, Rev. 
T. W. Dosh, preached from the text: Psalms xxxix : 
" Lord, make me to know mine end" He touch ingly 
dwelt upon the long and faithful labors of their 
aged, departed Pastor. 

Tributes were offered by most of the pulpits in 

43(> John Bachman. 

: Love, fruitful in devices, kept the bier within the 
altar covered for six months, with fragrant flowers — 
the emblems of the resurrection. 

[From Lutheran Visitor, by the Editor, A. R. Rude, D. D.J 

Died, in Charleston, S. C, Tuesday, February 24-th, 
at 0.20, A. M., Rev. John Bachman, D. D., 
IjL. D., D. Ph., Aged 84 Years and 20 Days, 

Fully prepared long ago, watching, waiting; for, 
as he often had declared, his work was done; calmly, 
peacefully, without a sigh, he slept, the spirit went 
to Jesus, and those who stood around the bed could 
not tell whether it was life or death, 
- Honored by all who knew him, loved by all whom 
he ministered to in holy things, a wise counsellor, 
a devoted friend, a learned man, a fervent patriot, 
but, best of all, a devoted Christian, a faithful 
minister of the Gospel, an example to all ; in him 
his family, society, and the Church have lost one 
whose like we know not where to seek, whose place 
we know not who can fill. Even for the last two 
years, when unable to appear in public, unable to 
serve at the altar and in the pulpit, and confined to 
the house and the sick-room, he yet was a tower of 
strength, a shining and burning light, and a living 
witness of the blessed truth, that " now abideth 
Faith, Hope and Charity, these three, but the 
greatest of these is Charity/' 

Though a learned man, though he had known 
every plant '* From the hyssop on the ivall, to the 
cedar on Jjebanon,^^ every beast, creeping thing and 
bird of many lands, he, during the closing years, 
forgot all. The works lie lost sight of, the Work-, 
man, the Creator, he remembered ; the sciences 
were to him things of the dead past; the Bible was 
to the last his precious all. The Psalms, the words 

Dr. Rude's Tribute. 431 

of Jesus, were as manna to his soul; on tliese he 
fed, by these his soul's life was sustained, and his, 
spirit strengthened for its upward flight. 

It was not our privilege to know him many 
years, but we do rejoice and feel that it was good for 
us to know hira well during the beautiful and holy 
sunset of his long, eventful and noble Christian life. 
For years before we met him, we had heard much of 
him. His praise was in all the Churches. Wo 
were proud of him, we felt stronger because he was 
one of us and with us, and we loved him, because all 
bore witness to his love for Christ, the Church and. 
the brethren. 

At last we met. Our first meeting was in Virginia, 
during the war. He had come from his far-off 
home in '' the City by the Sea." to minister to the 
physical and spiritual wants of the soldiers from his 
adopted State. The next time we met was at Con- 
cord, N. C, where he, by his wise counsel and gentle 
firmness, contributed largely to the formation of our 
General Synod, of which he was the first President. 
After that we enjoyed the genial hospitalities of his: 
pleasant home, and then we met again and again in 
Columbia, Charleston, at the meetings of the Gene- 
ral Synod and the Synod of South Carolina . In sor- 
row and in joy, at the cradle and the grave our in- 
tercourse was always pleasant, our communion 
always blessed ; we feel that we owe him mucli, that 
his counsels, his prayers, his example, his suttering, 
his faith, hope and love so transcendantly displayed 
in the most trying circumstances, have made us 
better, and brought us nearer the heavenly gates. Ho 
entered in before us; a host of washed and blood- 
bought souls, whose spiritual father in the Lord he 
Avas, have welcomed him; and here below, still 
waiting! and servino^. is a lar2:e multitude whom ho 
taught to love the name of Jesus. 

432 John Bachman. 

One thing we must not pass over, and that is his 
clear comprehension and his unconditional reception 
of, his fervent attachment for, and his adherence to^ 
the Confession of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. 
The Lord liimself was his teacher. And to us- 
and to many others it was a constant cause for 
gratitude and rejoicing that the grayhaired soldier of 
the Cross during the hist years of his life bore such 
unequivocal, constant and firm testimony to the 
articles of our faith, as set forth in the Augustana. 
Verily he was a true and faithful witness; he did a 
great and good work ; many shall rise up and call 
him blessed; and though dead, he yet speaketh/' 
yes, and speak he will, to the close of time and 
throughout eternity. 

And he is dead ! For years we had expected it. 
We watched at his bedside, but did not see him die^ 
for he died so gently, so sweetly, nay, he rather went 
to sleep, and he now sleeps in Jesus, in whom he 
believed, and whom he loved ; and served as a 
preacher of His great salvation for more than four- 
score years, and who was his refuge and is his rest. 

On Sunday, March 8th, amid tlie emblems of 
mourning, and in sight of the flower-crowned bier^ 
St. John's put on record her tribute of affection and 
esteem for John Bachman, the servant of God, who 
" from early manhood until the close of a long life,, 
went in and out before his people, as a priest in the 
temple of Jehovah." 

The Preamble and Resolutions were offered by 
one of the Vestry, John ¥. Ficken, Esq. 

Sunday, April 26th. Memorial services were held 
in St. John's Church, conducted by the Pastor, Rev. 
T. AV. Dosh, assisted by Revds. J. H. Honour, L. 

The Memorial '433 

Miiller, W. S. Bowman, and J. Fry, D. D., of Read- 
ing, Pa. 

The Pastor's text was from Proverbs x. 7, " The 
"memory of the just is blessed.''^ 

He closed his chaste eulogy on the departed, 
with the following beautiful tribute from Professor 
W. J. Rivers, of Baltnnorej Md., formerly of Charles- 
ton, S. C. Professor Rivers had sat under the teach- 
ing of Dr. Bachman, from childhood to manhood. 


In life or death no evil can befall 

The pure in heart : Their pains and griefs but serve 

As trials here, while at the gate of death 

God's angels stand and watch their coming steps 

To lead them on to endless peace in Heaven, 

By faith uplifted, they disdain as dross 
This world's false glory and its fleeting wealth, 
And count not aught their own save that which is 
Forever theirs: Their peace, their love to man, 
Their holiness engendered in the soul, 
Which thereby to the likeness of its God 
Redeemed, is with angelic glory crowned. 

This is thy wreath, the fruitage of a life 
Of prayer and pious deeds — thy peace, thy crown. 
Thy home in Heaven, bless'd minister of Christ! 

Though with her treasures Science wooed thy mind, 
And Nature brought, as to her votary, flowers 
And fruits, and from each distant region, bird 
And beast, as erst in Eden, to be named — 
Still ever to the Father's will-revealed. 
Pure fountain of His truth, thy thought was turned; 
And ever, with unquestioning trust, was heard 
His mandate to go forth and preach His Word, 
That haply it might kindle in our souls 
The faith and love and hope that quickened thine. 

Guide to the wanderer, helper of the wronged, 
The orphan's guardian and the widow's friend, 
Sweet counsellor to all. O ! if from Heaven 
All else of sinful earth should be debarred 

-434 John Bachman. 

Save guileless love, and such a love as ours ,| 

An entrance hath — comes there not now to greet ; 

Thy happy soul the whispered words we breathe 
From mournful hearts, as bending o'er thy grave 
• These wreaths we strow and fondly bless thy name? 

The Synod of South Carolina, on its 50th Jubilee 
■ determined to raise a fund to be called : 

*' The Bachman Endoivmcnt Fund of Newherrg 
College.'^ ' ' 

"A grateful tribute to the memory of John Bach- 
man, through whom pre-eminently the Synod and 
College had their origin." 

A mural tablet in the Church of St. John's^ 
Charleston, bears the following inscription : 


To the Memory of 

Rev. JOHN BACHMAN"! D. D., LL. D. 

Born in Rhinebeck, 

Dutchess County, State of New York, 

4th Feb., A. D. 1790, 

Died in this City 

24th Feb., A. D. 1874. 

Distinguished in Science, 

Eminent for Piety, Bravo and Faithful 

in devotion to God and his Church. 

For sixty years he was the beloved 

and revered Pastor of this Congregation^ 

commanding the unbounded esteem 

of a whole community. 

' His Remains Repose under the Altar 

of this Church. 


List of Dr, Bachman's Published Works. 

Address delivered before the Horticultural Society of 
Charleston, S. C. July. 1833. 

On the Migration of the Birds of North America. Pub- 
lished in 1833. 

Catalogue of Phsenogamous Plants and Ferns, native and 
naturalized, growing in the vicinity of Charleston, S. C. 
Published in 1834. 

Experiments made on the Habits of Vultures inhabiting 
Carolina — Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow. Pub- 
lished in 1834. 

Contributions in the Southern Agricultural Journal, pub- 
lished as editorials, from 1835 to 1840. 

Monograph of the Hares of America, including several un- 
described species. Published in 1837. 

Monograph of the Genus Sciurus,* including several new 
species. Published in Transactions of the Zoological 
Society, London, 1838. 

The Changes in the colors of Feathers in Birds, and of Hair 
in Animals. Published in Philosophical Transactions, 
Philadelphia, 1839. 

Address before the Washington Total Abstinence Society. 
July, 1842. 

Sermon against Duelling, about 1842. 

The Quadrupeds of North America. (3 Volumes.) Pub- 
lished jointly with Audubon. Figures by Audubon, 
text by Bach man. (The first volume appeared in 1845, 
the last in 1849). 

436 Appendix. 

On the Introduction and Propagation of Fresh-water Fish, 

Published about 1848. 
The Doctrine of the Unity of the Human Race, examined 

on tlie Principles of Science. Published in 1850. 
Defence of Luther and the Reformation. Published in 1853. 
Notice of the Types of IMankind (by Nott & Gliddon), with 

an examination of tiie Charges contained in the Life of 

Dr. Morton. Published in 1854, in "The Charleston 

Medical Journal." 
An Examination of the Characteristics of Genera and 

Species, as applicable to the Doctrine of the Unity of 

the Human Race. Published in 1855. 
An Examination of Prof. Agassiz's Sketch of the Natural 

Provinces of the Animal World, and their relation to 

the different types of men. Published in 1855. 
Address delivered at the Laying of the Corner-stone of 

Newberry College, 18.: 7. 
Report on Asiatic Goats. Published by order of "Tho 

Southern ('entral Association of Georgia," in 1857. 
Sermon on the Forty -Third Anniversary of his Ministry 

in Charleston. 


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