'Of Elephants and Roses' at the Philosophical Society (2nd review)

John James Audubon is rightly celebrated as one of the heroes of American art for his folio edition of The Birds of North America (1827-39), a document remarkable for its beauty but also extremely important for natural history: In the course of his work, Audubon discovered 25 new bird species. There are no Audubon birds in the current exhibit, "Of Elephants and Roses: Encounters with French Natural History," at the American Philosophical Society, but once you see the work of two of his French predecessors, you'll know where he got the idea for his work.

"Of Elephants and Roses" is a cooperative effort with the Natural History Museum of Paris, a treasure house of Europe's great age of exploration. That was a time when science was still a guessing game and nature's puzzling wonders were discovered almost daily, so the connections with a young American confederation make for a fascinating story.

The exhibit, which focuses on the period between 1790 and 1830, begins with bones and teeth, moves through botanicals, and ends with living creatures, notably a giraffe. Just to see some of the teeth— for instance a hulking row of molars from a mastodon— is to understand the shivers of excitement and wonder that must have run through 18th century observers. The scientist who sent those teeth back to France as a gift, hoping no doubt for some recognition from more prestigious peers, must have relinquished them with some reluctance; the delicate, perfectly observed drawing that he made and kept showed how much he treasured what he'd found.

Seeds from the New World

Botanicals follow the teeth; we are told that in 1785 King Louis XVI, unaware that he had only a few years left, sent a Monsieur Michaux off to North America to procure seeds from sturdy New World trees to help replenish France after centuries of deforestation. Most of the specimens Michaux collected and documented were practical oaks, but his shipments also included a lovely specimen named Franklinia, prized for beauty alone.

Michaux was later asked by Jefferson to join a major expedition to lands west of the Mississippi. That venture never happened, but the exhibit includes an American document of great importance: a fund-raising pledge letter signed by four presidents, including Washington, who gave $100 at a time when $12 was a yearly living wage. (The money collected was re-channeled to Lewis and Clark.)

Josephine's passion

As you would expect, the majority of scientist/philosophers bustling about in the natural history business at the time were men, including the early giants Buffon, Cuvier and Lamarck, but a major figure turns out to be a surprise. The Empress Josephine, while her husband Napoleon was otherwise occupied, cultivated exotic species gathered from all over the world at her Paris estate, inviting botanists and artists for study and documentation.

Two of those artists clearly influenced Audubon. Pauline de Courcelles Knip made studies of birds, particularly pigeons (of which there are"“ or were— far more spectacular variations than you may think) and created exquisite nature designs for porcelain from the esteemed Sèvres Manufacture. Her colleague P.J. Redouté specialized in the flowering plants adored by Josephine: Redouté's spectacular painting of Amaryllis de Joséphine, an extravagant species transported from South America, is a highlight of this exhibit.

And the giraffe? After a long journey, much of it on foot, the creature arrived in Paris in 1827 and became an instant sensation, her style and grace inspiring fashionable dresses, handbags and wallpaper designs.♦


To read another review by Andrew Mangravite, click here.