Chapter VIII: Final Journeys and Work (4)

Besides the normal sight-seeing, and drives around this truly magnificent city, we went one afternoon to the astronomical observatory out at Wahring (Weiss and wife being old acquaintances), and next day they went with us to the Prater. Körner and daughter took us to Schönbrunn. I went with these to a meeting of the Academy of Sciences; had a good turn around the new and immense, but mostly yet unarranged, Natural History Museum with Hauer, the director, and Steindachner, the zoölogical curator; had a look at the Hofherbarium on the upper floor, now under charge of a young man, Beck (and looked up some of Haenke’s things there). How different from forty-eight years ago, when Endlicher was curator, Fenzl, assistant, and the former took me out to the Botanic Garden to call on old Jacquin, etc. Steindachner, who was with Agassiz for a year or two at Cambridge, would have us come to his house for our last evening; Süss[141] and frau to meet us,--charming couple; would have been lots more, but we cut it short; had a jolly, pleasant evening. Körner was prevented from coming. He has been asked to take Eichler’s[142] place at Berlin; a botanic garden man and good teacher. Weisner’s physiological laboratory I had an hour or two in, and saw all his gimcracks; some nice ones. Saturday evening we went by rail to Salzburg (at day-dawn); Munich at sunrise, not stopping; on to Ulm soon after ten A.M. Bad weather kept Mrs. Gray indoors all day Sunday, though I ran about. Monday morning she had with me a good look over Ulm minster, inside and out; the upper part of the spire is rebuilding, and is to be carried up with the true taper, according to the original plan. That sight-seeing done, we came yesterday to, and across, the Lake Constance, to Zurich, for late afternoon and evening, and on to Geneva overnight.

I passed an hour this morning with De Candolle,--aged, but fairly cheerful,--and he begged me to breakfast with him to-morrow. Müller Argoviensis was not at his post.

What a season you have had, and what a fiasco Normandy would have been, as you say. Why, the apple blossoms are only now out here. We did have comfortable, warm and dry weather at Vienna, and the Belvidere gallery is most enjoyable. Berlin we don’t in the least care for; but our faces are rather set for Amsterdam, Antwerp, etc. If you have a call to write me soon after getting this, for a day or two you might venture Amsterdam, poste restante; but later the old address, to Hôtel St. Romain, Rue San Roque, would be the thing until further notice; add “To be kept till called for.”

I doubt if we shall be back in England before the 17th or 18th, and then Mrs. Gray will have to join her luggage, left somewhere in the neighborhood of Charing Cross, where it now reposes, and we shall have to hasten down to Cambridge....

We have had an enjoyable time; and, I suppose, shall by day after to-morrow set off Rhine-wards, stopping, perhaps, a day at Strasburg, and by the Low Countries back to Paris, probably not to be again on this side of the Channel, unless you and Lady H. will take a trip to Normandy with us, either in August or September.

I hope you will soon have done with Phyllanthus, and that you will not hesitate to restore as many old genera as your own judgment dictates. Your experience and present insight must exceed Bentham’s. And what you must needs indicate, the next man will take up, and probably cackle over.

My wife joins in love to yours and you; will be likely to write when she can.

* * * * *

From Geneva the old journey of 1850 was nearly repeated, and Dr. Gray came down the Rhine, by rail this time, to Brussels, Amsterdam, the Hague, back to Antwerp and Brussels, and so to Paris. Besides meeting old friends, the object of the journey, he said, was to have one more good look at picture-galleries and churches and cathedrals; and great was his enjoyment of them, unwearied his wanderings about the places where he stopped. The new galleries at Amsterdam and Brussels, and their superb collections, delighted him, and the grand music of the cathedrals and their noble interiors seemed a new source of pleasure.

He missed his old friends in Paris; Decaisne was gone, and Lavallée, etc. He went to a meeting at the Institute, and saw Chevreuil, who had passed his hundredth birthday, but spoke a few words with life and animation. There were some excursions in the neighborhood, and some work in the herbarium, where he received every kind attention.

TO ----,

PARIS, June, 1887.

... The views on the garden and park side of the Palace of Fontainebleau, and over the carp pond, which came up to the walls, were very pretty; partly clipped and trimmed trees made into green walls, partly more English.

... At half past one, in an open light carriage with a canopy overhead, keeping off the hot sun, and letting through the fresh air, we were off for our two hours’ drive through the famous forest. The main avenues, long and straight, and formal; but the forest was voted very handsome. A change came when we reached the ruin of the hermitage of Franchard, and the extensive region of rocks and dells. We were taken through by an old guide, who, with much pride, paraded the little and queer English he had picked up, and showed off all the sights, the most important to him being those in which bits of rock could be likened to a lion’s head, a beef’s tongue, a turtle, and the like. First and foremost, in a sort of over-arched grotto, was “La roche qui pleure,” a great disappointment! A sort of crack or joint between two layers of the rock exuded a little moisture in one spot; _voilà tout_. We shed about as many tears in our laughter at the sight; more indeed, for we could see not a drop. I dare say at some seasons there may be a little drip. But the dells among the rocks were fine, and the stories of the boar hunts, and all that, by the kings and queens and courtiers, could be made fairly real on the spot, and the famous points of view, one of Maria Theresa, one of Eugénie, were effective. A drive back by another route took us through some older forest; occasionally a really old tree, and one truly old and large linden. There may be parts in which there are trees as large and venerable as in old English parks, but we saw only this one old tree. The forest is very large, and we had to be content with this one drive. We might have had one hour more of it, for we had all that to wait for our train back to Paris, very pleasant as it cooled at evening.

June 9, I at work at Jardin des Plantes, but back at noon, and at half past twelve we drive across Paris to the Gare de Sceaux and out to Vilmorin’s. At Massy, where we leave the railway, Henry de Vilmorin awaited us, with his nice carriage, and took us to the charming place at Verrières, so full to us of recollections. It is prettier than ever, the house enlarged and so full of very nice things. V. and I were most of the time in the grounds, looking at plants, back to afternoon tea and cake, which we much enjoyed, being hungry, and to accommodate us they put forward the dinner hour to six. Besides the children and English governess, we had at dinner a very interesting abbé, with a charming, intellectual face, and a manner to match--a Monsignor; for he takes that title as a member of the Pope’s household or personal staff. He had passed a portion of his life at Moscow, as the curé of a French Catholic church there, had seen a good deal of the Roman Catholic bishop of Chicago and other American brothers; was a good deal interested in America, and after the ice was broken and he found he could understand J.’s French, and even mine, which amused as well as instructed him, we had much chat. We had to break off. Vilmorin drove us back a few miles to Fontenay-la-Rose, to take a particular train, and so we were at our quarters in Rue St. Roche before dark. That need not mean very early, for the days here are wonderfully protracted.

* * * * *

He crossed to England June 14, passed a day or two in London, and then went to the Camp, quite glorious with the rhododendrons in blossom; and with Sir Joseph and Lady Hooker, on the 18th, went to Cambridge, where they were the guests of Mrs. Darwin. A delightful Sunday was spent in meeting old friends, and on Monday were all the ceremonies, new and strange, of conferring of degrees. The great sensation of the day was the presence of the Lord Mayor with all his train; he also was to have a degree.... No one can surpass Dr. Sandys in the felicity with which he presents the distinguished men whom Cambridge University honors with its highest degrees. In his presentation of Dr. Gray, he said (we translate from the exquisite Latin):

“And now we are glad to come to the Harvard professor of Natural History, facile princeps of transatlantic botanists. Within the period of fifty years, how many books has he written about his fairest science; how rich in learning, how admirable in style! How many times has he crossed the ocean that he might more carefully study European herbaria, and better know the leading men in his own department! In examining, reviewing and sometimes gracefully correcting the labors of others, what a shrewd, honest and urbane critic has he proved himself to be! How cheerfully, many years ago, among his own western countrymen was he the first of all to greet the rising sun of our own Darwin, believing his theory of the origin of various forms of life demanded some First Cause, and was in harmony with a faith in a Deity who has created and governs all things! God grant that it may be allowed such a man at length to carry to a happy completion that great work, which he long ago began, of more accurately describing the flora of North America! Meanwhile, this man who has so long adorned his fair science by his labors and his life, even unto a hoary age, ‘bearing,’ as our poet says, ‘the white blossom of a blameless life,’ him, I say, we gladly crown, at least with these flowerets of praise, with this corolla of honor (his saltem laudis flosculis, hac saltem honoris corolla, libenter coronamus). For many, many years may Asa Gray, the venerable priest of Flora, render more illustrious this academic crown.”

* * * * *

England was in a stir with the Queen’s Jubilee; it was impossible to be in London on the twenty-first, as Dr. Gray must get to Oxford to receive his degree on the twenty-second, and a good part of the day was used in crossing country by various railroads; but the sight of the crowds, the decorations, the bands everywhere, was very interesting, and the enthusiasm contagious. Oxford had its gay share of illumination in the evening, and the next day Dr. Gray received his degree with several others, among them his old Cambridge acquaintance, Story, the sculptor.

TO ----.

BLACHFORD, Sunday, July 2.

... I am to add some supplementary notes.

At the Cambridge University lunch, I had Mrs. Jebb assigned to me to take in. Oscar Browning took the seat on my right. Opposite was a man I was glad to see, Lord Acton,--middle-aged, of high scholarship and admirable taste, who fought a long and losing battle against the superstitious tendencies of his (Roman Catholic) church; and after lunch I had a pleasant conversation with him; was glad to find he was one of the new D. C. L. crew at Oxford, where I again saw something of him. He has been in the United States when only a baronet.

At the Oxford Christ Church dinner I was placed at the high table, only two away from the Dean’s left, the two Dr. Jellett, provost of Trinity College, Dublin (who was doctored), and the bishop of Gibraltar. On my left was Talbot, the warden of Keble College (the very high church one), and I know little of what I ate or drank, for we had a steady stream of conversation on high topics, treated with immense frankness on both sides. Dr. Jellett made the return-thanks speech for all four of the new-made Doctors present,--himself, Story, Dr. Wright, Arabic professor at Cambridge, and myself, a speech full of Irish humor. That was arranged to be all. But the lower tables somehow knew by instinct what Story wanted, and called him out. He made a rather funny speech. Then Liddon had to move thanks to the president of the feast, the Dean (Liddell), and a capital speech he made, even to my apprehension. I saw that there was a good deal between the lines in what he was saying, but did not know the half of it till I was told afterwards. Paget, my host, was opposite me. Prestwich, whom I had not before got sight of, was next him. It was a long affair, but very pleasant to me.

Next morning was the call on Professor Bartholomew Price and wife, in a charming old house, meeting Tylor and Maspero; then we went to the Museum, giving our time there to the new well-contrived Pitt-River Museum of Ethnology; then walked to Acland’s and made a long call on his daughter, who seemed pleased, and we certainly were to see her again, and looking well, though a sufferer and invalid. The dinner at Balfour’s, J. will describe.

Friday, at ten o’clock, the Hookers called with a carriage, and we drove to Nuneham, seven miles, where Colonel Harcourt, older brother of Sir William Harcourt, had invited us to see the place and lunch. It is one of the principal seats of the Harcourt family,--not the oldest, which is on the Thames much higher up--and is in view from the railway to London, a handsome but externally rather plain pile, and so full of remarkable things. As soon as we arrived we were shown through most of the house by Colonel H., and some of the historical curiosities were brought out.... There is an unparalleled gallery of original portraits of British poets, mostly given by themselves, almost all of them....

The “omnibus” had been ordered, and we drove through the park, into the arboretum, and through it by winding roads were landed at the conservatory and gardens, the dairy, the ornamental grounds, filled with statues, etc., inscriptions in verse and prose set up by the wits of the times of George II. and III. In the house we were shown some of the letters, of which there is a vast quantity, now being sorted and arranged in volumes and indexed. One volume is of those of George III., beginning with those when a small boy, and badly spelled, ending with some when an old man and insane. Then a walk along the terrace and the side commanding the fine views, from some points Oxford dimly seen in the distance; then the lunch.

Our carriage was announced, and we took leave, a shorter way through the park being pointed out. Got back to Oxford just in time to take leave of H. (her husband out) and take a fly to train, and so to London; separated from the Hookers, who had to take a slip car, to be dropped at Reading. We went straight to Paddington without stop, and thence in a cab to the Deanery, where our dear good friends awaited us.

Saturday afternoon, we were all going with the Churches to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s garden party at Lambeth Palace, when, at breakfast, Mrs. C. got an invitation from Mrs. Gladstone to hers, at Dollys Hill, up near Harrow, and the question of dividing forces came up. It was settled, as I wished, by Mrs. C., Fred, and I going by underground to the Gladstones, while J. and the Misses C. went by carriage to Lambeth. Mrs. Gladstone sent her carriage down to the station, a mile off, which took us up to a pleasant country house, which some one (I think Lord Aberdeen) has lent to the G. O. M. It was all lucky for me. At Oxford, Bryce had asked me to his dinner for July 6, where he said Gladstone wanted to meet me, and our engagements here made that impossible. At the garden party, while we were there, the people were few and a good chance to talk. Mrs. Gladstone was most gracious. Gladstone said he was very glad to see me in the flesh, and we had pleasant talk, of nothing in particular. Lord Granville sought an introduction, asked Lowell, who was there, to introduce him, and then introduced his brother, Lord Leveson Gower, and afterward his son. Then I was put at the tea-table at the side of Miss Gladstone, the principal of Newnham College at Cambridge, a most bright and pleasant person; and after a long talk, a lady with a very pleasant and handsome face pushed in a chair between us and asked an introduction,--Lady Lyttleton.... I met her next day at evening, at Mr. Talbot’s (M. P.) house, where I went to be taken to a good seat at St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster, now serving for the Abbey, to hear Talbot, the warden of Keble, preach.

Sunday morning, to continue my separate doings, I went to the Temple Church, to hear the very sweet music, better in my opinion than that of St. Paul’s, and to hear the chaplain (Master is his proper title), Vaughan. Capital sermon it was. Afternoon I was quiet. At seven o’clock I went to Westminster to hear Talbot, the warden of Keble. These very high clergymen have a way of preaching broad-minded sermons. Talbot’s might have been preached by Phillips Brooks, or even by A. P. Peabody, except for an incidental phrase or two, and except for some posturing at the prayers. So my idea of the man, as a man of excellent sense, in spite of his setting in a very superstitious school, was confirmed.

Tyndall dinner; here as a guest, I was the third on the left of the chairman (Stokes, president of Royal Society), only Lord Bathurst and Lord Derby between. The speaking I thought heavy enough, except for Lord Derby’s speech, which was pointed and witty, and Lord Rayleigh’s, at the end, which was neat and sensible. Met there (in Willis’s Rooms; the dinner was in the Almack’s ballroom of old days) a good many old acquaintances, and of course had a good time.

* * * * *

From London, after more entertainments, Dr. Gray went to Devonshire, where he made a charming visit at Blachford with his friends Lord and Lady Blachford; most interesting excursions followed over the downs, a day up the Tamar to Cothele; and he made other visits on the way back, one to his old Cambridge friend, Mrs. James, near Exeter, where he had an afternoon call at Killerton, Sir Thomas Acland’s, and saw the fine beeches, etc.; returned to London, where there was much visiting before he went to Edinburgh for another degree. On the way to the north he visited the grounds of Welbeck, and saw the fine trees of Sherwood (Robin Hood’s) forest,--beeches, and grand, hoar old oaks.

From Edinburgh Dr. Gray went through England to Normandy, meeting Sir Joseph Hooker and his party at Rouen; then came a delightful trip given to churches and cathedrals.

He wrote: “Bayeux and Coutances surprised us, they are so very good; only Amiens and St. Ouen can compare with them in beauty, especially interior views.

“No two of all these Normandy churches are alike; even those of essentially similar style differ both within and without so much that you would not wish to miss any one. Those old church builders were geniuses, and worked by inspiration.”

He gave a day to Mont St. Michel, and then separating from the Hookers he went to Chartres, to see it again after thirty years, and by Rouen and Amiens returned to England; when came an interesting visit to Harpenden to Dr. and Mrs. Gilbert, viewing the famous experiments in agriculture at Rothampstead. And the seeing of cathedrals was closed by a most delightful and busy day at Canterbury with Canon and Mrs. Fremantle.

At the end of August he went to Manchester to attend the meeting of the British Association, and he and Mrs. Gray were guests of Professor Williamson; De Bary and M. de Saporta being also under the same hospitable roof. It was an unusual assemblage of botanists, and a very enjoyable occasion.

Dr. Gray seconded Sir Henry Roscoe’s address at the opening of the meeting with this short speech:--

“For the very great honor of being called upon to second the motion for a vote of thanks to your illustrious president, I am mainly indebted to that deference which is naturally accorded to advancing years; a deference which sometimes, as in the present case, takes one unawares.

“In looking over the list of Corresponding Members of the British Association, I find myself, much to my surprise, nearly, if not quite, the oldest survivor.

“I recognize, therefore, a certain fitness, on this score, in the call upon me to be the spokesman of those, your brethren from other lands, who have been invited to this auspicious gathering, and to the privilege of listening to the very thoughtful, well-timed, and most instructive address of your president.

“As guests, we desire, Mr. Mayor, heartily to thank the City of Manchester and the officers of the Association for inviting us; we wish to thank you, Sir Henry, for the gratification your address has afforded us.

“Convened at Manchester, and coming myself by way of Liverpool, I would say, personally, that there are two names which memory calls up from the distant past, with unusual distinctness, both names familiar to this audience, and well-known over the world, but which now rise to my mind in a very significant way. For I am old enough to have taken my earliest lessons in chemistry just at the time when the atomic theory of Dalton was propounded and was taught in the text-books as the latest new thing in science. Some years earlier, Washington Irving, in his Sketch-book, had hallowed to our youthful minds the name of Roscoe, making it the type of all that was liberal, wise, and gracious. And when I came to know something of botany, I found that this exemplar as well as patron of good learning had, by his illustrations of monandrian plants, taken rank among the _patres conscripti_ of the botany of that day.

“The name so highly honored then we now honor in the grandson. And I am confident that I express the sentiments of your foreign guests whom I represent, when I simply copy the words of your president in 1842, now reproduced in the opening paragraph of the address of the president of 1887, transferring, as we fitly may, the application from the earlier to the later Manchester chemist.

“‘Manchester is still the residence of one whose name is uttered with respect wherever science is cultivated, who is here to-night to enjoy the honors due to a long career of persevering devotion to knowledge.’

“I cannot continue the quotation without material change. ‘That increase of years to him has been but increase of wisdom,’ may, indeed be said of Roscoe no less than of Dalton; but we are happy to know that we are now contemplating not the diminished strength of the close, but the manly vigor of the midcourse of a distinguished career. Long and prosperously may it go on from strength to strength.

“In general, praise of the address which we have had the pleasure of hearing would not be particularly becoming from one whose chemistry nearly ended as well as began with the simple atomic theory of Dalton. But there is one topic which I may properly speak of, standing as I do as a representative of those favored individuals which your programme, for lack of a better distinguishing word, calls ‘foreigners.’ I refer to the urgently expressed ‘hope that this meeting may be the commencement of an international scientific organization.’ For this we thank you, Mr. President, most heartily. This is, indeed, a consummation devoutly to be wished, and confidently to be hoped for by all of us, especially by those for whom I am speaking.

“Not only we Americans, who are of British descent, and who never forget that blood is thicker than water, but as well our Continental associates on this platform, of the various strains of blood which, interfused, have produced this English race and fitted it for its noble issues,--we, each and all, I repeat, accept this name of ‘foreigners’ only in the conventional sense which the imperfection of the language imposes. In the forum of science we ignore it altogether. One purpose unifies and animates every scientific mind with ‘one divine intent,’ and that by no means the ‘far-off intent’ of which the poet sings, but one very near and pervading. So we took to heart the closing words of your president’s most pertinent and timely address. Indeed, we had taken them to heart in anticipation, and so have come to this meeting, one hundred strong or more (in place of the ordinary score) fully bent upon making this Manchester meeting international.

“Far back in my youthful days there was a strong-willed President of the United States, of military antecedents, who once drew up and promulgated an official order which somewhat astounded his cabinet officers. ‘Why, Mr. President,’ they said, ‘you can’t do that.’ ‘Can’t do it?’ replied General Jackson; ‘Don’t you see that I have done it?’ And so we internationals have come and done it. I am the unworthy spokesman of such a numerous and such a distinguished array of scientific foreigners as have never been assembled before. Next year, if you will, you shall have as many more. When you too are ready to cross the Channel or the North Sea, we shall compose only a larger scientific brotherhood. And when you cross again the Atlantic, the brotherhood of science will be the more increased, and its usefulness in proportion.

“In behalf of your foreign guests, I heartily second the motion.”

* * * * *

From Manchester Dr. Gray went to Failand, to his friend Sir Edward Fry; then followed a visit to Miss North, in Gloucestershire, where he met, among others, Mr. and Mrs. Elwes,[143] and drove one day to Tortworth to lunch with Lord and Lady Ducie; then to Kew. A few days there with his kind friends, Dr. and Mrs. Oliver, a farewell visit to his old friend, Miss Sullivan, at Broom House, to the Camp to say goodby to the Hookers, and finally to Liverpool to sail in the Pavonia, October 7. Just six months, as Dr. Gray said, of wonderful enjoyment and success; everything had gone as it should, there were no mishaps, the days had run on as each had been planned, and he came home in wonderful vigor and spirits.

CAMBRIDGE, October 24, 1887.

DEAR REDFIELD,--Thanks, many, for letter of the 22d....

We have had “a good time,” and after long play I am getting down to work....

Thanks to you all for your congratulations, in which my good wife sincerely joins.

Yours affectionately, ASA GRAY.

HERBARIUM OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY. BOTANIC GARDEN, CAMBRIDGE, MASS., October, 1887.

DEAR HOOKER,--Your welcome letter in this morning. I was just writing a notice of Ampelideæ, and your remarks are in time for me to sharpen it up a bit. I think I can smash his notice about Ampelopsis.

Who is Miss Grant, who says she knows you both? She sculps, I believe.

Ever yours, A. GRAY.

There was much to do on getting home and settling down again, and many things were planned for the winter’s work. Dr. Gray particularly wished to write some accounts of the old botanists he had seen in his earlier visits, being stirred thereto by Reichenbach[144] of Hamburg, and by the stories he told one evening at Dr. Oliver’s, at Kew, when all agreed it was a pity some of these characteristic things should not go on record. He took up work on the “Flora,” wrote a review of “Darwin’s Life and Letters,” and had a busy time before him.

Professor Baird, director of the Smithsonian, and an old friend, had died during the summer, and Dr. Gray, from his long connection with the institution, was much interested in the appointment of his successor. He went on in November to Washington to a special meeting of the Regents, when Professor Langley was appointed; wrote from Washington of the wonderful amount he had done in one day, and hurried back; liking always, if he could, to surprise those at home by being somewhat earlier than he had promised. He began the Annual Necrology for the “American Journal of Science.” He was already at work on the Vitaceæ for the “Flora.”

He went in to Boston for the family Thanksgiving dinner, though there had seemed some threatening of a cold, but he pronounced himself perfectly comfortable. Still there was a quick breathing and some listlessness, so that he was nursed a little on Friday; though he saw Miss Murfree, who had been brought by Mrs. Houghton to ask him to settle some question about a flower of the Southern Alleghanies, and he entered into the matter with all his old life and eagerness. That evening he had two slight chills, so that the doctor was summoned the next day, and fearing some chest trouble, as he seemed threatened with one of his bronchial attacks, advised him to keep in bed. On Sunday his pulse and temperature had improved so much that he was allowed to get up and go down stairs at noon, the doctor congratulating him on the success of the treatment. There seemed a weakness of the right hand, which, however, passed away, and he wrote that evening the letter to Dr. Britton, which follows, and when remonstrated with for making the exertion, said “it was important and must be written.”

Sunday Evening, November 27, 1887.

DEAR DR. BRITTON,--I wish to call your attention either in a personal way or in the “Bulletin,” if preferred, to a name coined by you on the 223d page of this year’s “Bulletin.”

“Conioselinum bipinnatum (Walter, Fl. Car. under Apium), Britton, Selinum Canadense, Michx., 1803.”

I want to liberate my mind by insisting that the process adopted violates the rules of nomenclature by giving a superfluous name to a plant, and also that in all reasonable probability your name is an incorrect one.

Take the second point first. On glancing at the “Flora of North America,” of Torrey and Gray, 1, 619, where the name Conioselinum Canadense legitimately came in, you will notice that the name Apium bipinnatum, Walt., is not cited as a synonym; also that the synonymous name of Cnidium Canadense, Spreng., is cited with “excl. Syn.” This Apium bipinnatum, Walt., you might gather was one referred to. Sufficient reason for the exclusion by Dr. Torrey might have been that Michaux’s plant is a cold northern one, which nobody would expect in or near Walter’s ground--the low and low middle part of Carolina. Besides, the preface of that “Flora” states that Walter’s herbarium had meanwhile been inspected by Dr. Torrey’s colleague, who may now add that the Apium bipinnatum is not there. So that the name you adopt rests wholly upon a mere guess of Sprengel’s, copied by De Candolle, dropped on good grounds by Torrey, but inadvertently reproduced in Watson’s “Index,” copying De Candolle. I suppose you would not contend that a wholly unauthenticated and dubious (I might say, doubtless mistaken) name, under a wrong genus, should supersede by its specific half a well-authenticated and legitimate name. And I am sure that you will not take it amiss when I say that very long experience has made it clear to me that this business of determining rightful names is not so simple and mechanical as to younger botanists it seems to be, but is very full of pitfalls. I trust it is no personal feeling which suggests the advice that it is better to leave such rectifications for monographs and comprehensive works, or at least to make quite sure of the ground.

We look to you and to such as yourself, placed at well-furnished botanical centres, to do your share of conscientious work and to support right doctrines. So I may proceed to say that, upon the recognized principles since the adoption of the Candollian code, your name of Conioselinum bipinnatum, even if founded in fact, would be inadmissible and superfluous. By a corollary of the rule that priority of publication fixes the name, taken along with the fact a plant-name is of two parts, generic and specific, it follows that in any case, Conioselinum Canadense is the prior name for those who hold to the genus Conioselinum. I have laid down what I take to be the correct view as to this, in my “Structural Botany,” paragraph 794, where it is supported by the high authority of Bentham. I believe it is more and more acceded to by the most competent judges. There are those who make transpositions of divorced halves of plants name, and who, also make the law of priority mechanically override other equally valid laws, without regard to sense. To such the old law maxim of the elder De Candolle was applied; _summum jus, summa injuria_. If you like to adopt their ideas, you have at hand a still older, the very oldest, name, namely, Conioselinum Chinense, for I can certify that the plant we are concerned with is Athamantha Chinensis of Linnæus.

Very truly yours, ASA GRAY.

The next morning he seemed bright and well, but on going down to breakfast there came a slight shock in the right arm, which seemed, however, to pass off after he had rested. He managed to put up, for two friends in England, copies of his “Review of the Life of Darwin,” in the “Nation,” penciling the address so that it could be read. But a more severe shock returned in the early afternoon, and for a few moments a loss of articulation. That disappeared and the physician looked hopefully at the case, though recommending extreme quiet for mind and body. By Wednesday evening he seemed greatly improved, but the next morning the power of connected speech had gone. He could repeat words spoken to him, and could sometimes, apparently with long striving, connect the wish and the words, but for the most part he had lost the power of using the word he wanted, and could only express himself with signs, and his “eloquent left hand;” for the paralysis gradually increased until the whole right side was helpless. He lingered patiently in much weakness and at times suffering, until the 30th of January, 1888, when he gradually sank and quietly passed away at half-past seven in the evening.

Dr. Gray was buried in Mount Auburn, February 2, where a simple stone, bearing a cross, marks his grave, with his name and the dates 1810-1888.