A legend among scientists has it that the controversial naturalist
Rafinesque once named a freshwater "trivalve" based on a sketch by Audubon.
What are the facts of this sorry tale? Did it really happen?

I can answer only part of these questions. Here is the first part, as told
by Audubon himself in his "Ornithological Biography", and quoted in "The
Life and Writings of Constantine Samuel Rafinesque," by Richard Ellsworth
Call (1895, Louisville, Kentucky, John P. Morton and Company). Audubon
disguised Rafinesque's name as "M. de T.", and the events described took
place in Henderson (Hendersonville), Kentucky in 1818:

"When it waxed late, I showed him to the apartment intended for him during
his stay, and endeavored to render him comfortable, leaving him writing
materials in abundance. I was, indeed, heartily glad to have a naturalist
under my roof. We had all retired to rest. Every person I imagined was in
deep slumber, save myself, when of a sudden I heard a great uproar in the
naturalist's room. I got up, reached the place in a few moments, and opened
the door, when, to my astonishment, I saw my guest running about the room
naked, holding the handle of my favorite violin, the body of which he had
battered to pieces against the walls in attempting to kill the bats, which
had entered by the open window, probably attracted by the insects flying
around his candle. I stood amazed, but he continued running around and
around, until he was fairly exhausted; when he begged me to procure one of
the animals for him, as he felt convinced they belonged to a 'new species'.
Although I was convinced to the contrary, I took up the bow of my
demolished Cremona, and administering a smart tap to each of the bats as it
came up, soon got specimens enough.

"M. de T. remained with us for three weeks and collected multitudes of
plants, shells, bats, and fishes... We were perfectly reconciled to his
oddities, and finding him a most agreeable and intelligent companion, hoped
that his sojourn might be of long duration. But one evening, when tea was
prepared, and we expected him to join the family, he was nowhere to be
found. The night was spent in searching for him in the neighborhood. No
eccentric naturalist could be discovered. Whether he had perished in a
swamp, or had been devoured by a bear or gar-fish, or had taken to his
heels, were matters of conjecture; nor was it until some weeks after, that
a letter from him, thanking us for our attention, assured me of his
safety."

Rafinesque's biographer, R. E. Call, read malice between the lines of this
account, and strongly disapproved of Audubon's behavior, which was indeed
reprehensible. But I would like to point out that after an uninvited visit
of three weeks, Rafinesque ended up with bundles of new species, possibly
including a new bat, and Audubon had a broken violin and not even a
goodbye. He may well have felt that his prank evened the score. But Call
saw it in a darker light:

"Audubon played on the credulity of his guest, who had implicit confidence
in him as a brother naturalist. The host simply lied to Rafinesque, and
seeing him eagerly accept the proffered bait still further abused his
confidence and did a most unmanly act, one which has caused great annoyance
and loss of time to succeeding naturalists. Audubon drew figures of some
impossible fish, giving them gaudy coloration and glowing descriptions, and
supplied Rafinesque with what purported to be notes of fact; all of these
Rafinesque duly copied into his own note-book. Furthermore, the host
described to his guest impossible limpet-like shells, said to live in the
Ohio, and these were likewise carefully noted. Later, Rafinesque used these
so-called facts as the bases of new genera and species; then Audubon
employed the data known only to himself to make Rafinesque ridiculous."

That "Monsieur de T." was a pseudonym for C. S. Rafinesque became widely
known only when David Starr Jordan published the fact in 1886 (Popular
Science Monthly, v. 29, p. 212-221). Audubon told Dr. Bachman, who told Dr.
Kirtland, who told Dr. Jordan, in a sort of game of "Whisper". Jordan also
reported that Rafinesque named 12 species of lightning, but Call denied
this indignantly in his bibliography. Rafinesque did describe 12 kinds of
lightning, but not as formal species. He was, however, a monomaniacal
wonder when it came to naming new taxa, so this calumny was believed and is
still repeated as a legend among scientists.

So much for Part One. Part Two would consist of quotations from
Rafinesque's paper on the trivalve, if I could find it. I even have a
bibliography of more than 200 works by Rafinesque at my command.
Unfortunately, the originals are excessively rare, and the bibliography
contains no annotations referring to trivalves. All is not lost, however.
If someone on this List could please look up "The complete writings of
Constantine Schmaltz Rafinesque on Recent and Fossil Conchology", we might
be able to make some progress. The book was edited by W. G. Binney and G.
W. Tryon, Jr. (Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, New York,
1864), and I do not have access to a copy.

I really hate to leave you all wondering. Can anyone out there supply me
with a photocopy of the original trivalve article?

Andrew K. Rindsberg
Geological Survey of Alabama
Tuscaloosa, Alabama, USA